Never Again: Discontinued version
by Constantlyconsciouslyaware13
Summary: This fic has been discontinued, but for all of you who like it, check out Never Again. All new posts will be made to that story. I'm just leaving this one up so all my past readers can make the jump to the new edition. thanks for reading!
1. Welcome to My Life

**Disclaimer: **What's the point in writing something after 'Disclaimer'? I mean, if I owned this, why would I put a disclaimer before my work?

**A/N:** After two months of inactivity and writer's block, I've edited this fic and added another chapter (or so, I don't know how many more there will be after I finish writing this)! Thanks to my four reviewers, especially Ashthebrave and Mordecay, for their continued presence in the review sections of my works! Enjoy!

-LFK

The once mighty city of Neverwinter is a hive of panic and terror. Thousands have died from a mysterious plague called the Wailing Death, and thousands more are infected. With the risk of an epidemic spreading across the face of Faerûn, the Lords of Neverwinter declared a quarantine and shut the gates to all travel, trapping sick and healthy alike inside the city walls.

Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande has issued a call to all adventurers within the city, asking them to keep order and help her find a cure. Promises of honor and riches have drawn many to Aribeth's side, but all for naught. The plague spreads with every passing day, and sweeps through the poorer quarters of the city like a flash fire. Many would-be heroes have fallen, and no cure is in sight when a strange woman enters through means other than the great gates.

This is the story of a woman unused to finding kindness at the hands of others, becoming a deliverer of a greater kindness than any could imagine; a tale of might and magic, and the prices one must pay to succeed. This is the tale of Majandra Damar, the Silver Shadow.

It was a dark, gloomy night on the streets of Neverwinter, though especially more so in the winding maze of buildings and alleyways that was the Beggars Nest district. The despairing screams of the dead and dying echoed through the crisp air, drowning out the song of the stars to those that could hear their sorrow. There was tension in the air, almost as if daring one to answer the question: what do men do when not under the eyes of others? One woman was about to find out just how crudely desperate men could act outside of the eyes of the law.

"Not a-bloody-gain!" Majandra Damar growled to herself as she fled from alley to dark alley, long cape streaming out behind her as she sought to avoid the mob of drunkards trailing her with bare steel in her hands. A small alcove created by two tilted buildings caught her eye, and she ducked inside without a moment's hesitation. In normal times, no young woman would have to fear for her life on the streets of the Gem of the North, but these were not normal times, and Majandra was far from a normal woman.

At first glance, her features were those of a young moon elven woman, not more than a century or two old, with long, raven black hair with delicate blue highlights and fine elven features. It wasn't until one got closer did they see how the luscious fall of hair hid two silvery horns curving back from her head, or the red-flecked amber eyes that caught the light, even in the darkest night. When the slight breeze shifted her cape, a lithe, pointed tail peaked out under the hem.

"There she is!" Angry voices echoed down the empty street, followed by heavy bootsteps heading in her direction. One of the hunters, a big brute of a man with a scraggly beard and a badly stained tunic, slid his sword mockingly on the chipped cobblestones near Majandra's hideaway. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" he said in a singsong voice. "I know you're hiding, pretty daemonfae! The priests of Cyric say that one of those horns of yours, when boiled in demonic blood will provide a cure for the plague, and we mean to have it!"

Majandra stiffened as she heard his words, struggling hard to contain the anger that had surged into her blood at the mention of her demonic heritage. Just as beings with both human and infernal blood in their veins were called tieflings, so people with the blood of elves and demons were called daemonfae. Though a different race than teiflings, daemonfae had in full the terrifying blood rage of their demonic blood, as well as the physical features taken from the infernal parent such as wings or tails.

Majandra's hands settled on the hilts of her weapons, and trusted companions, the twin wakizashi Rekkei-maru and Tekkei-maru. At first glance, the long eastern daggers seemed plain and unassuming. It wasn't until the heat of battle when the blades given her by her elven father glowed with the telltale signs of enchantment and magical power. _Are we ready for this?_ She silently asked the sentient blades along their telepathic link.

_ Bathing in the blood of these fools will be enjoyable. _ Rekkei-maru's voice was like Majandra's own; soft, confident, melodious, but with a twisted edge to it that was soaked in the suppressed anger the daemonfae held inside. _ We have not killed in many days. _

_ I'd rather keep it like that! _Majandra replied as she crouched down and began to inch carefully out of the tight hole.

_ Only kill if you have to, _ Tekkei-maru advised in a gentle tone like her master's yet untouched by the countless sorrows visited upon their lives. _ We have only been in this city for barely a week. Killing citizens, even in self-defense, is something we cannot afford if we wish for a hope of acceptance. _ Majandra just shook her head and rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wondered if it were a wonderful joke her father had played on her by giving her sentient weapons who's personalities rested on complete opposite ends of the spectrum where her own lay in the middle.

The communication only took a split second, but it was one second too many as her streak of good fortune finally ran out.

"Gotcha!" the brutish man snarled as he grabbed her by the arm roughly, beefy hands and long, yellowing nails cutting into the fabric of her silk shirt and bruising the skin below it. He dragged her out of the alcove and then threw her onto the ground, where she found herself surrounded by a group of men. "Well, boys," he continued as he slowly circled her, black beady eyes fixed greedily on her body. "I told you'd I'd bag us a demon, and I just did!"

Majandra lost focus the instant the word 'demon' came out of the big man's mouth, rage surging to a fore. She had spent years denying her heritage, sacrificing herself willingly for the greater good in an attempt to redeem the actions caused by her people and her own sins. Hearing the slight coming out of a stranger's mouth set her demonic blood afire and howling for the slaughter. "I am not a demon." She whispered quietly as she got to her feet slowly. The man closest to her stepped back a pace as her now glowing red eyes rested on his for a moment before moving on.

"What'd you say?" the ringleader jeered. "I didn't hear that, demon bitch!"

"I am NOT a demon!" Majandra snarled as she launched herself at the beefy man, using a flying roundhouse kick to strike him in the gut and then the next eight men in a series of blows that cracked bones and bruised muscles.

"Kill her!" the leader rasped as he drew a longsword from the sheath at his side and charged at her. "We can get the cure out of her dead body as easily as alive!" another man leapt at her with bare steel in his hands, sword whistling towards her neck. In that split second, as she watched the technique in which the tallow haired man used his blade, and the group tactics that the others were using to keep her attention divided, that she realized that she wasn't fighting drunk commoners. These were guardsmen, and they definitely knew their way around their weapons.

Only her cat-like agility saved Majandra from a free beheading, but as she twisted to avoid the blade, the man changed his cut in mid-swing, landing a deep blow beneath her ribs. She stumbled back, cursing as she clamped her left hand to the wound that had already soaked the front of her tunic with blood.

Apologizing to Tekkei-maru, Majandra drew Rekkei-maru and settled down into an offensive stance. "I am NOT a demon!" her voice was soft and almost pleading as she let the blood rage take over and threw herself at the men. They gasped in fear as a pair of ethereal, blazing wings appeared from her shoulder blades, but by then it was too late to run. Their fate had been sealed the moment the girl had drawn her blades.

Their screams cut into the air to mingle with those dying of the Wailing Death, but, if one listened, one could hear the demonic laughter echoing in the background.

When the veil of red rage left Majandra's eyes, she was lying in a pool of blood, some hers and some theirs, amongst a pile of mangled corpses. She tasted a coppery liquid in her mouth and then began retching violently as she realized what it was; blood, and most certainly not her own. A strange half sob escaped her red lips as she staggered away from the slaughtered guards to lean against the cold brick wall of the alley.

_Monster… _the word echoed mockingly in her head as she trembled from the effort of staying on her feet. Rekkei and Tekkei-maru had magically sheathed themselves at the end of the battle, one over her right shoulder, and the other at her left hip. "Yes," she mumbled as she stared sadly at her blood stained hands. "I am a monster. I deserve to be feared, to be hated, to die."

Decades ago, after the accident that had led to her exile from her home, Majandra had vowed upon her father's memory that she would never allow herself to kill in the blood rage that so defined her sub-race. This was the second time in the two weeks she had been in the Neverwinter region that she had broken her vow. There was a dark aura around the city, blackening the hearts of all that felt it, and it affected her more than wished to admit.

A sharp spike of pain in her side brought her out of her musings as a pained moan slipped through her tightly clenched teeth. _ Maggie, _ Tekkei-maru said concernedly in her head. The sentient sword used the pet name that Majandra's father had called the girl to get through the pain that clouded her mind. _ That wound is bad, very bad. We need to find a cleric. Head to the City Core; there are bound to be temples to all deities there. _

_ And just what are the chances that there will be a deity willing to treat one such as a daemonfae? _ Rekkei-maru asked as Majandra pushed herself off the wall, leaving a red stain, and swayed weakly on her feet. Blood leaked through the fingers of her left hand as she held it tight against the deep gash that ran from her navel to just below her ribs. She took a careful step, ignoring the jolt of agony as she shifted her weight, and then broke into a limping jog as she headed towards the great iron gates that marked the border between the Beggar's Nest and the City Core.

Unbeknownst to our erstwhile adventurer, another set of eyes watched her passage from the shadows; two acid green eyes, held aloft by a lizard-like form relayed a message to their master before fluttering off into the night with leathery, scaled wings.

Blood loss, lack of sleep, and emotional drain began taking their toll on the young daemonfae as she stumbled blindly through the spotless streets of the Core, trailing blood with each step. The endless bickering of her two blades, coupled with the high-pitched ringing in her ears, made her head want to explode.

"There…" she whispered through cracked lips as a large white building appeared in her diminishing field of vision. "I either die…or not…" she shivered, wracked both by fever chills and fear. Death on the prime material plane would send her back to the Abyss, where she would be welcomed with open arms back into the endless Blood Wars.

She brought her wandering thoughts back to heel and found herself staring into the gold paneling of the wide temple doors. She raised a hand to push the doors open, but her strength chose to fail her before she could touch the handle.

_ Get up, demon child! Half-breed, tainted one, child of evil! _ Majandra flailed at herself with the cruel words she'd heard all too often during her travels and childhood, but her body refused to respond. _ Move, damn Tanari'i! _ Pain crashed down on her, and she curled into the fetal position with a choked cry, blood pooling beneath her.

Her last words, before the tantalizing lull of darkness swept her away, were the whispered denial, "I am not a demon…"


	2. Injustice in the Temple of Justice

**Disclaimer:** disclaimed in its entirety, minus Majandra and my tweaks

**A/N:** Once again, you've found your way to my story! Yay! But did you review? Probably nay… TT… anyways, this is the new version of chapter two, and I hope you enjoy it.

-LFK

_**Halls of Justice, Aribeth's Chambers…**_

"Lord Tyr, liege of my heart, grant this humble paladin a simple boon," Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande paused as sorrow choked her throat before continuing her prayer to Tyr the Even-Handed at the private altar in her simple chambers. "The people of this city, innocents all, are being lost to the devastating malignancy of the Wailing Death. I ask that you show us the way to cure this plague and return Neverwinter to its former glory, even should such a deed take my own insignificant life."

Aribeth bent her head in respect to the stone altar and then turned to leave her chambers, stopping only to check her appearance in the standing mirror opposite the foot of the four-poster bed. She pulled stray strands of auburn hair back into place behind her sharply pointed ears and then straightened her enchanted plate mail so it once again rested on her body like the smoothest of silks.

She was about to turn and leave when a young acolyte of the temple knocked hastily on the thick, ironwood door and then pushed into the room with a clumsy bow.

"Milady Aribeth!" the lad gasped as he tried to straighten heavy, linen robes creased from running. "There is something that you have to see in the entrance chamber!"

"What is it, lad?" Aribeth replied with a forced smile. Her mind raced as her heart hovered somewhere between apprehension and hope.

"Father Anderson refused to tell us," the boy replied as he all but dragged Aribeth out of her chambers with his words and led the way down the stairs that led from the dormitories to the main temple. "But I SAW her when they dragged her in! She has horns, and a TAIL!"

"Oh really?" Aribeth replied calmly. Up ahead, by the entrance, she saw a ring of temple guards surrounding a curled up form on the ground. She had strolled through the ring of guards so quickly that they barely had time to shout warnings before she was kneeling beside the blood-covered body of what appeared to be an abused elven girl.

Her breath caught as she realized what she was seeing a moment later. "A fey'ri!" she breathed as she gently touched the rocking, shivering girl on the shoulder.

The girl didn't respond to the touch, just kept rocking back and forth muttering the same words over and over again. "I am not a demon. I am not a demon. I am not a demon…."

"Who is this woman?" she demanded of the nearest guard, a young man who was trembling with either fear or anger, she couldn't tell. "How did she get here?"

"She's a minion of evil, Milady! Sent by the demons who cursed us with this plague to cause even more harm!" The sword gripped in his hand could have shattered from the pressure his grip had. All the knuckles on his right hand had turned white with strain.

_ That's right, _ Aribeth thought as she inspected the girl with tentative fingers. _ Kayle lost his family when tieflings sent by a balor destroyed his village. I really should do better background checks on the guard force! _ Her delicate probing revealed the girl's heritage further when she found two silvery horns partially concealed in the waves of raven black hair and, what had first appeared to be a belt, a long tail tipped with a spike the same color as her hair.

"Well, don't just stand there!" her voice cracked like a whip over the stunned guards. "Get this woman to a spare room! I will heal her wounds myself, and learn exactly what a child of darkness is doing in Neverwinter." The white-robed clergymen bowed before carrying out her words, two carrying the girl while the others held her weapons and belt pouch.

_ Is this the sign that I have waited for? _ Aribeth thought as she followed the litter with her eyes, gaze fixed on the luminescent, deathly white face of the fey'ri. _ Or is this just another plot hatched by our enemies? _ She let the guardsmen get out of sight with their burden before following slowly after, silent but for the muted thud of her sheathed bastard sword striking her cloth-like armor.

_**Halls of Justice, Cells…**_

_ So, how did it feel to bathe in the blood of your enemies, demon-girl? _ Rekkei-maru's voice slid sickeningly through Majandra's mind, lighting up the void-like dream world that was the fey'ri's refuge when she found peace in neither the Reverie of her elven kin nor the semi-catatonic state of her demonic sires. _ Wonderful? It has been many days since we drank the blood of our victims! _

_I'm a monster…_ Majandra thought despairingly as she curled up tighter on herself in the single beam of light that shone directly on her, tail curled around her knees and black, ethereal wings hunched around her shoulders. When on the Prime Material plane, the birdlike wings only appeared when she felt strong emotion or had to tap into her true power. _A sick, disgusting, rabid monster only deserving of death…_

_ No you're not! _ Tekkei-maru's presence, a soothing blue in Majandra's subconscious, turned the dreamscape a deep purple where it had been blood red due to Rekkei-maru's influence. _ Stop tormenting the girl with your war-mongering nonsense, Rekkei! Listen well, Maggie, _ Majandra stopped her whimpering as her surroundings grew steadily lighter due to Tekkei-maru's increasing good influence. In the back of her mind, she could hear Rekkei-maru simmering in the depths of her bloodrage. _ Monsters do not feel remorse for the lives they take! You may have the blood of demons running in your veins, but it does NOT define whom you are! _

Majandra blinked awake, golden eyes unused to the white light that flooded her room, and then started back with a squeak that cut off abruptly as she struck her head on the oak headboard of her bed. Staring down at her with a warm smile was an unfairly beautiful elven woman garbed in finest of paladin armor. The silvery plates shone with the telltale sign of enchantment to Majandra's sensitive eyes, runes of power glistening where the steel overlapped.

"Ah," the woman said. Even her voice was perfect, a combination of tinkling chimes and reverberating bells. "I had hoped you would awaken soon from your rest. The wounds you took were quite extensive. How did you gain them?" the tall woman stood calmly in the center of the small, bare room, hands away from her weapons, as Majandra, lithe tail lashing in anxiety, leapt off the bed and stumbled back until she was against the far wall.

"Who are you?" Majandra demanded, eyes darting about as she sought an escape from the windowless room. The only exit she could see was the iron bound door, but instinct as well as common sense told her that it was hopeless. "Where are my things? My weapons and gear?" her stuff, even her clothes were gone, leaving her standing about in an old nightshirt and, curiously enough, a pure silver bracelet on her right wrist that was strangely silent to her magic detecting senses.

"I believe the guest is the one who should introduce herself first, does she not?" Aribeth replied calmly. "Tell me, who are you, and what is your occupation?" So far, she felt that her first assumptions about the girl, that she wasn't evil, were correct. Coupled with the mutterings she had heard the fey'ri utter in her dreams made her feel that she could almost be trusted not to act dishonorably.

"My name is," Majandra paused as she fought with suspicion and the almost painful desire to trust and be safe again. On the planes, names existed to be exploited, and giving away your own could be the cause of your downfall. "Majandra," she finished finally. "Majandra Damar, survivor."

"I see." Aribeth's blue-green eyes softened with compassion for the tense woman. Survivors were people who, like barbarians or berserkers, threw themselves into the heart of conflicts to flirt with death, using skills drawn from all the common and prestige classes. Survivors typically chose their trade after experiencing an event where they should have died and yet did not, usually associated with close family members or companions. Those that chose this profession were endowed with eyes that were flecked with blood red specks. That this girl, not a day over two centuries by elven standards, had survived her occupation was a testament to her skills with combat as well as magic. "My name is Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, Paladin of Tyr and defender of Neverwinter's faithful."

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Majandra replied as she bowed gracefully to the other woman, a wry twist to her lips. "But that in itself begs a question. Why would a paladin of a demon hating order save a tainted one such as I?" this last was said with a distinct hint of bitterness as well as resignation. Was she going to be sent back to the Abyss and endless fighting now, trapped and helpless? The idea of dying so made her blood boil and the specks in her eyes flare.

"Please, take a seat," Aribeth said as she took the only chair in the room and gestured to the bed. Majandra sat gracefully, tail lying across her lap as she waited for Aribeth to continue. "You were saved because I personally believe you to be a follower of justice and good, and so this temple welcomed you to partake of its aid. Now, how long have you been in the city, and what is your purpose?"

"I have been in the region for three weeks," Majandra replied truthfully. "I slipped past the guards and entered the city eight days ago. I was only meaning to stay for a few days before continuing my journey to Silverymoon." Something about this elven paladin, this Aribeth, made lying in her presence seem the highest of sacrileges.

"I see." Aribeth made a noncommittal noise as a frown creased her forehead for a moment before smoothing away. "Then I assume that you know about the plague that has struck my home, killing thousands each day with its malignant presence?

"Oh yes, I know of your plague, if that is what you wish to call it." Majandra replied angrily, tail lashing once before calming down again. "I have been attacked many times by untrained boys as well as guardsmen, sometimes for being an elf and others for being a fey'ri, because they want me for some kind of cure for the curse."

"My apologies," Aribeth said with a wince. The woman's treatment was not going to make persuading her to help any easier. "The people are strained to the point of breaking. But please, explain what you mean by a curse?"

"I think not," Majandra replied with a crooked grin as she settled back onto the bed comfortably. "Not until you explain what exactly this thing on my wrist does." She shook the bracelet at the paladin. "It is not mine, therefore it is some device of yours."

"It," Aribeth hesitated. She had felt the trust building up between her and the nearly feral woman. Revealing the true purpose of the bracelet could dash it all to pieces in one small sentence. "It is a bracelet worn by all prisoners and ex-cons in Neverwinter," she said with a sigh as she saw the edges of Majandra's beautiful golden eyes darken as rage bled into them. "The magic is nearly undetectable, but the more unforgivable the crime, the harsher the punishment is if the parolee should attempt to harm the citizens of the city once more. It is a shock collar, more or less."

"And just what level is the one that you have locked on me?" Majandra asked stiffly. She ignored the guilt she saw in the paladin's eyes and instead focused on suppressing her anger. This Aribeth woman was like all the others, kind until you realized what they wanted and then willing to force it out of you if you resisted.

"It's the highest one." Aribeth flinched as she saw the coldness in the other woman's eyes. She had fought Lord Nasher on the decision to cuff the fey'ri, but the aged ruler had insisted upon it, refusing to believe her words that the wounded girl was a potential ally. "It will drain your life should you choose to harm any citizen, not stopping until you are on the verge of death."

"And legends are told of the tolerability of the city of Neverwinter?" Majandra chuckled mirthlessly as Aribeth averted her eyes. "If this is how the city acts in times of hardship, I would love to see it in war!" she walked over the iron door and knocked sharply. She was rewarded by her efforts when a plate slid back into the doorframe and two scared eyes peaked through. "The Lady Aribeth will be leaving now," she said coldly as she heard Aribeth get to her feet behind her. "I would advise you ready whichever archers and pikemen outside my door. I may be more dangerous than I look." She ended with a toothy grin that widened as she heard the guardsman squeak with fear. "It was a pleasure speaking with you," she told Aribeth with a mocking bow. "Think on exactly how much you want my information, and then return. I'll be waiting…"

Aribeth opened her mouth to respond and then closed it and nodded resolutely. She would do her best to persuade her lord to reverse this twisted vision of justice, and gain back the noble fey'ri's trust in the process. "I'll be back, Majandra," Aribeth said firmly, azure eyes locking with gold. "And when I return, you will be serving the city of Neverwinter as a free woman!" she marched out of the cell, back stiff with ire towards herself for handling the woman carelessly, for Lord Nasher for putting her in this position to begin with, and for the evil doers who had sent this plague upon their heads.

**A/N: **wow! You made it to the END of chapter two! That's more than about four hundred of y'all can say, ne? so, you gonna review? Personally, I think you should, but, since you know you won't, don't sweat it! Just keep on reading, and I'll know how it's being taken by the number of hits… you didn't honestly believe me when I said don't review, did you? PLEEEEEEEASE feed this review-starved author! Lol, til next time then!

-LFK


	3. Injustice: Part Two

**Disclaimer:** not mine, never mine, and all I can claim is Maggie…

**A/N: **wow! Three chapters! Hope everyone reading likes it, because I'm not stopping! This chapter explains a little bit of Maggie's past. Not everything, but just enough to explain her attitude towards people, humans in particular. Enjoy!

-LFK

_**Halls of Justice, Cells…**_

Two weeks had passed since Aribeth had left Majandra, promising swift justice and release, and Majandra was losing hope. Food was delivered to her room only once a day, a few crusts of bread and stale ale, and so she spent most of her time sleeping to conserve her energy. As always, dreams came to her restless mind.

**_Two Hundred Sixty Years earlier…_**

"_Father!" a tiny elfin girl, no more than forty winters old, with tail and horns bounded through the sunlit Nurikabe forest of southern Kara-tûr, navigating the twisting maze of invisible walls and disappearing paths with the ease of a long time inhabitant. "Father! I found the herbs you told me to find!" she skipped across a little brook and then broke into a sprint as she reached the deer path that would lead her directly to the tiny cottage she shared with her father, Brilthor Damar. _

_For as long as she could remember, she and her father had lived by themselves in the forest, living off the land and in harmony with the other denizens, what the natives called oni and tengu. They only ventured outside of the forest to trade some of the rarer herbs and plants with the nearby village. Otherwise, they kept very much to themselves and avoided contact with any who ventured inside. As far as the girl knew, she and her father were the only elves living in the area, though she was sure there had to be more._

"_There you are, Maggie," she smiled broadly as her father, her gentle, caring father, appeared at the door to their home, arms wide in preparation for the fierce hug his daughter gave him. "And you got the herbs, just as I asked!" she ignored how thin he felt beneath her arms, and the slight hitch to his breath as he spoke._

"_Yes, father," she replied, "I found them exactly where you said they'd be!"_

"_You are the best herbs picker ever!" her father exclaimed as they entered their cozy home. "I think I just might have to live with you forever!"_

"_Don't worry, father," Majandra had replied with childlike innocence shinning in her eyes. "I wasn't going anywhere anyway!"_

_**The cell, present time…**_

At that moment, Majandra stirred on her small cot, tail lashing once before she settled back down in sleep, a content smile touching her lips as she dreamed of happier times. The corners of her mouth turned down as the vision shifted, and a growl escaped her throat at what she knew would come next.

_**Two Hundred Years earlier…**_

"_Father!" the fey'ri was no longer a child by elven standards, but a beautiful young woman on the verge of reaching her independence. "Father! Please, where are you?" the forest was choked with black smoke that swamped her senses with ash and heat and pain. In her panic, she ran head-on into one of the invisible blocks that gave the Nurikabe forest its name, falling back and landing hard on her sensitive tail. "Oww, damn it!" she jumped back to her feet and raced as fast as she was able to her home. _

_When she reached the glade that held their cottage, she nearly fainted from the power of the rage that flowed through her. The house was a smoking ruin and, though there was no sign of her father, the whole area reeked of humans. "FATHER!"_

That was the last thing she consciously remembered doing, digging in the ruins of her home, yet others told her of how she'd attacked the nearest village in a fit of raging bloodlust in search of her father. When she'd come to, it was to find the body of her father in her lap while she sat, soaked to her skin with human blood, amidst the ruins of the village, twin daggers that she'd recognized as her father's clutched in her grasp…

"Father!" Majandra jerked awake with his name on her lips and stared wildly about, taking in the by now familiar walls of her cell. "Damn," she muttered as her breathing slowed and her heartbeat calmed, "another dream."

"No," a deep voice chuckled, "definitely not your father, nor a dream, devil's spawn!" Majandra whirled and came face to face with an armed paladin standing in her open doorway.

"What do you want?" she asked, proud that she could keep her voice steady in the face of such an obvious threat. "I'm a prisoner here, and only supposed to be seen by Lady Aribeth. I suggest you leave, quickly and quietly, before the regular guard returns."

"I want something that you demons are well versed in," the blond man didn't show any sign of having heard her, and drew his sword from its sheath. "Revenge!"

_Bhaalspawn!_ Majandra cursed as the man advanced upon her with a mad look in his icy blue eyes. She stood up on the hard surface of her cot and adopted a fighting stance, hands held out like knife blades. _I can't kill him, but he can surely kill me! Damn this place to the hells!_

"Look," she leapt over the blade as he cut at her legs, twisting in mid-air so that she landed behind the beardless boy. "I don't want to hurt you, but you're leaving me no choice!" she ducked below a strike to her head and winced as a lock of hair floated to the ground beside her.

"Die!" he screamed in reply as he threw himself at her, blade leading. "I will kill you for what you did to my family!"

_His family?_ Majandra thought confusedly as she rolled backwards into the empty hall, dodging the slow moving blade effortlessly. _What do I…oh, right. Because I'm a fey'ri. Why did I think things would change when I came west?_

"Alright!" she turned on the boy, startling him out of his blind charge with her cold voice. "I have absolutely HAD IT with you people!" she loosed her grip on her boiling rage at the injustice and let her golden eyes bleed red with fury. In a blur of movement, Majandra leapt at the boy and lashed out with her fist, catching him across the jaw and stunning him for a moment.

"HALT!" she stiffened as she heard boots pounding behind her, as well as the creak of crossbows and leather sheaths. It took all her willpower to keep a tight reign on the bloodrage that pounded in her blood and not attack the newcomers. "Don't move, fey'ri! Sir Kayle, are you well?"

"Do not interfere!" the maddened paladin bellowed as he shook off Majandra's blow. "This one is mine!" he charged Majandra once again, murder in his eyes.

She waited for him to come within three paces of her and then exploded into motion. Her foot smashed through his kneecap with a sickening crack, and he fell to his knees with a cry that became choked as her hands struck the pressure points in both arms. "What's wrong, paladin?" she snarled as she grabbed his head by his hair and forced him to look her in her glowing eyes, ignoring his weak struggling. "Are you enjoying your revenge? Your justice for your family? I am!" her grip tightened as she held the whimpering boy still and drew a sharp nail from the corner of his twitching eye to his jaw line.

Suddenly, she heard the crack of a bowstring and pain exploded in her shoulder. "Ahh!" she cried out as she fell away from the fallen paladin and stumbled back, clutching the quivering bolt that had forced its way through her flesh.

"Stop this at once!" Majandra sighed in relief as the strong, female voice rang out in the hallway. All movement from the temple guard stilled and the area was silent but for the whimpers of the paladin as he clutched his knee and the steady drip of blood from Majandra's wound. "Put your weapons away!"

"Yes, Milady," the men rumbled as they lowered their bows and sheathed their swords. Aribeth took in the scene with a completely calm expression and then, to everyone's surprise, walked past the wounded paladin on the floor and strode to the fey'ri's side.

"Here," she said gently, refusing to flinch as the girl whirled on her with blazing red eyes. "Let me help you."

"But, my lady!" the paladin shouted as he watched the tell tale glow of Tyr's healing magic flowed from the lady paladin and into the injured girl.

"But nothing, Kayle," she returned coolly as she turned back to him, crossbow bolt clasped in her right hand. "In what way was it honorable to attack an unarmed prisoner, and a woman a that?"

"She's just a demon bitch," he muttered rebelliously as two of his fellows hauled him to his feet, and a cleric bent down to examine his knee.

"No," Aribeth said, stopping the healer in her tracks. "Leave his wound as it is."

"What?" Kayle exclaimed.

"Kayle Smithson, I strip you of your position within this house of justice. You walk out of this place with your pride, but leave your honor and title at the alter of our Lord." Aribeth intoned the ritual dismissal with a tinge of sadness in her eyes, but steel in her voice. "Leave this place, now."

"Fine," Kayle jerked out of the grip of the men holding him up and began limping out of the building. "I shall leave, but you haven't heard the last of me, demon!"

Majandra, held up by Aribeth's strong sword arm, watched emotionlessly as her attacker left the temple, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief from the outcome of the short fight. Being on the verge of killing and then having to stop was nearly painful to all Survivors. Once the decision had been made, the commitment to take a life, pulling back was agonizingly difficult. Her tail lashed in anger, but she watched the men file out wordlessly.

"I apologize for what has happened here," Aribeth turned to her a moment later with a smile after dismissing the remaining guardsmen and clergy. "It seems that justice has become harder and harder to determine in these trying days."

"Nothing really changes," Majandra replied neutrally as she stepped away from the paladin and flexed her shoulders. Small wounds like those received by bows and the like regenerated quickly, thanks to her demon blood. Even the wound that had landed her in the temple to begin with would have healed in a short amount of time had she not been starving and half-dead. "Now," she continued, ignoring Aribeth's measuring gaze. "Has Lord Nasher rescinded his decision about this blasted bracelet?"

"To a point," Aribeth replied promptly as she began walking. Majandra fell in beside her, ignoring the aching emptiness in her stomach. She had been in the cell for two weeks, near as she could tell, and they had only given her food once daily. "Lord Nasher won't remove the bracelet, but has decided to put you on a probation of sorts."

"What kind of probation," Majandra asked suspiciously, "I thought that was the whole point of my imprisonment here!"

"Well, true, but thus is my Lord's will." Aribeth replied uneasily, "you will be given your weapons and your freedom, but there is one requirement."

"And that would be?" Majandra replied, feeling her patience slip away by the second. "At this point, I couldn't care less whether this city burned. I just want to leave."

"That's just it," Aribeth continued. "You cannot leave Neverwinter. You are to enroll in the Academy of Heroes here in the city, and work with the other adventurers to find a cure for this plague."

"You're kidding me." Majandra stopped abruptly and glared at the elven woman. "You have got me trapped here nearly as well as if you had caught me with a geas! Is it not enough that I tell you what you wish to know about the curse?"

"That is part of the deal as well." Aribeth returned her glare with a rather helpless smile. They were standing in the temple antechamber now, only a few paces from the gleaming alter to Tyr. "I argued your case as best I was able, Majandra, but I'm afraid you must follow Lord Nasher's will in this."

"I see." Majandra stalked towards the wide entranceway with the anger of a cheated predator, complete with lashing tail. "When do you want me to report to the academy?"

"You are to go there immediately," Aribeth replied. "You will receive quarters, your belongings, as well as parchment and quill to record your information. There will be a guard posted outside your door at all times as well, and he will take your report."

"Very well," Majandra sighed, releasing her anger, and bowed low to the woman. "I will report at once. And, Lady Aribeth," she paused at the door and glanced back at the elven paladin. "I understand, truly, I do, and I respect you. Perhaps we will have a chance to work together." And with that, the fey'ri disappeared into the night, blending into the darkness like a shadow.

**A/N: **Like? Don't like? TELL ME! I'm writing this for various reasons, but the top of my list is FOR YOU! Let me know how I'm doing, and this story can only get better! Thanks for reading, now click that little blue button in the corner…

-LFK


	4. Academy of Misfits

**Disclaimer**: If I actually DID own this awesome property of Bioware, I'd be a very happy girl. To that extent, I suppose I'm the most depressed because I don't…. oh well!

**A/N**: Ok! So, yeah, here's the rewrite of chapter four. Thank you for reading, and for possibly considering reviewing!

-LFK

_**Neverwinter Academy, Fighter's Hall…**_

"You there! Recruit with the great sword! Just what do you think you are doing? Get your arse over here before you kill someone with that thing! And you! What the HELL are you doing with that quarterstaff?" Sergeant Hearse, the retired officer in charge of training the fighter classes of the Neverwinter Academy screamed himself hoarse as he tried to make himself heard over the ruckus of swords clashing, and the more distant explosions coming from the mage wings. He glared at all and sundry around his vantage point in one of the high galleries over looking the training grounds, looking for another unfortunate to yell at.

Sitting in a quiet corner of the training hall, away from the creaking of combat dummies and the thud of archery targets, a deeply hooded Majandra Damar chuckled as she watched the brawny drill sergeant shout at a wannabe paladin who was stumbling over a simple sword technique with his giant blade.

_Dear Gods,_ she thought as she watched the spectacle of the pretty-boy human struggle with his weapon of choice. _This is just too priceless!_ She ignored the stares and murmurs of the other trainees as her silent chuckles became full-blown, dark laughter.

It had been nearly a month and a half since Majandra and her full time guard, an agent of Lord Nasher's intelligence department named Mikhail, were formerly 'inducted' to the Academy, and the fey'ri girl's attitude had taken a dramatic turn for the better. Though life in the academy had been hell from the moment she'd stepped inside, between lewd catcalls from the perverse and constant attacks from the 'just', it was what occupied her free time that changed her opinion of Neverwinter so drastically.

At first, Majandra's days and nights at the academy had been a never-ending gauntlet of back hallway brawls with those students of the fighter classes, and secretive backstabbing with the mages, to the dismay of Mikhail. Night after night, the dark skinned weapons master and his charge would trounce the unorganized students on the way to the two-room quarters they shared, and, once there, patch each other up with the aid of spells and healing potions

Mikhail, a dark-skinned human weapon master hailing from the southern lands of Calimshan, was a quiet man who rarely spoke to Majandra outside of the limits of his duties as her jailer, yet on the fourth day following their arrival to the academy, he'd come to his charge with surprising news.

"I have received new orders," he'd told her as they sat at their customary table in the mess hall. The cafeteria had been quiet for some time now, since the students had gone back to their training, and the weapons master and his charge were given a measure of peace and blessed tranquility.

"Really," Majandra deadpanned as she glanced over her goblet of berry wine at the stoic face of her jailer turned guardian. "Has Lord Nasher," her voice took on a mocking ring that made Mikhail's eyes narrow, "decided to lock me up for harming his precious trainees? Or maybe it has to do with that paladin! What was his name? Ah, yes, Kayle. I suppose your lord didn't take too kindly…"

"The Lady Aribeth has given me liberty to escort you about the city after the dinner hour, and your duties as a student, are complete." He spoke quietly, and then returned to his simple meal of vegetable soup, a slice of buttered bread, and a cup of ale.

"…to me beating the soul of Tyr out of him- what did you say?" Majandra stopped mid sentence as she realized what he'd said, dropping all pretenses of cold indifference to her companion in the first excitement she'd felt in days.

"I said," Mikhail replied slowly as he settled his soup bowl down, "that I received orders to-"

"I know what you said!" Majandra shoved her bench back and swung her heavy cloak around her neck. "What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing," Mikhail had replied with the first smile Majandra had seen on the stony man's face, let alone that of any other being in the academy. "I just wanted to see how much you wanted out of here, and whether it was as much as I do."

"Definitely!" Majandra cracked a broad grin in reply, lighting up her face and chasing away the forbidding mask of a warrior. "Let's leave this hellhole and find some amusement!" And so they left, fey'ri and human allowing themselves to be swallowed up in the lengthening shadows of night as they searched for Neverwinter's heart.

After her treatment at the hands of the likes of Lord Nasher and other ilk, Majandra had come to believe that, with the exception of Mikhail and Aribeth, all Neverwintians were corrupt and didn't deserve her aid. Her nights spent in the city with the stoic weapon master showed her the true heart of Neverwinter in its citizens, artists, and merchants. Though she saw the fear and distrust in their eyes when Mikhail urged her to introduce herself, many of the people treated her with a tolerance she truly hadn't hoped to see. Such treatment took the first steps in melting the icy wall she had placed around her heart decades ago.

"Looks like I've caught you alone, fey'ri! Where's your babysitter? He's obviously not doing his job if Miss Majandra Damar is all on her lonesome." Majandra stiffened at the mocking tone of the male's tenor voice, startled out of her thoughts and back into the hustle and bustle of the training area, and then relaxed as she realized who'd addressed her so.

"What do you want, jaluk?" she replied in the sibilant drow tongue as she glanced up into the familiar broad smirk of the half-drow rogue who went by the name of Shade Darkstalker. She matched his grin with one of her own, a hint of fang sticking out over her lip.

The two half-breed elves were friends of a sort, brought together by the mutual dislike of the other students as much as similar ideals and professions. Upon her first official day of training in the academy, Majandra and Shade had been paired up in the initial training bouts. After a bout of taunting, the two warriors had nearly killed each other for the give and take of insults, yet when they were pulled apart, each had nodded with respect and gone their own way.

After that event, Mikhail had received orders forbidding her from sparring with students near or below her level of skill. Now, though they couldn't test each other's abilities as warriors, Shade and Majandra kept each other company during the long, fruitless days at the Academy.

"My, my," Shade said teasingly as he shifted his sheathed katana so he could slide down beside her with his back against the stone wall. His long, unruly white hair tickled Majandra's chin as her friend settled to her left. "The claws are certainly out today! Gold piece for your thoughts?"

"Only one?" Majandra replied wryly as she turned her wandering attention back to the hard at work fighters. "I'll have you know-" her words were cut off as the entire room shook to its very foundations, knocking trainers and students alike to their knees with a chorus of curses and shouts. All but those of fäe heritage, or with peerless grace and balance, were affected by the aftershock of what had to be a failed casting. Shade and Majandra remained where they were, unaffected, sharing a laugh as dwarves, halflings, and humans stumbled about disjointedly.

Plumes of smoke burst through the doors leading to the mage's arena, followed by a very scorched Master Mage Jaroo.

"Nothing to worry about!" the gaudily dressed gnome exclaimed as he waved the funky colored, and smelling, stuff away from his face with a flick of his wand. "Nothing at all! Just a little bit of an experiment from my students!"

"JAROO!" both Shade and Majandra winced as Hearse's booming voice assaulted their sensitive ears. "What the HELL was that! Didn't I make it clear that I DON'T want any more FUNNY BUSINESS coming out of you or your trainees?" the hefty sergeant stomped over and bent his face down until his beaklike nose was pressed against the gnome's sharper one. "NO MORE FOOLISHNESS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Yes, sir." Jaroo, pale in the face of Hearse's wrath, replied weakly as with another wave of his wand, he dispelled the remaining cloud from the chamber.

"Wow…" Shade muttered as the two friends watched Jaroo literally melt under Hearse's heated glare as spittle flew through the air. "They didn't name that fellow sergeant at arms for nothing!"

Majandra just nodded and settled back under her hood as the room returned to its normal state of controlled, militaristic chaos. Her hands drifted to the empty sheaths of her belt where Rekkei and Tekkei-maru had been missing ever since her capture. Life in the academy, as dreary as it continually was, even with the welcome excursions into the city with Mikhail, seemed even worse without the constant commentary from her two oldest companions.

"So," Shade began again after a moment. He could feel the brooding air about his friend, even if he couldn't see her striking features from the shadow of her cloak. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"What's so special about tonight?" she replied a moment later, voice devoid of any emotion. Shade was startled by the lack, until he followed her gaze across the room to an olive-skinned man leaning on the wall opposite them, leather-bound sword hilts sticking up over his left and right shoulders. The heavily armored man, garbed in long gold cape and shimmering silver links, was helping the young lad the two friend's had been ridiculing before the magical disturbance.

_Do I know him?_ Majandra frowned as she watched the broad shouldered man wield his greatsword with precision and a kind of masculine grace that only peerless warriors could achieve. _I feel as if I should know his face, though from where I know not._

"Kaerion Galadorn," Shade observed, glancing curiously between the fey'ri and the human. "Knight of Kara-tûr and Paladin of Lathander the Morning Lord. He happens to be the golden boy around here, in case you didn't know. Rumor has it he was asked to come by Lady Aribeth herself, and only arrived here yesterday. Know him?"

She didn't respond immediately, but Shade could see the amber in her eyes deepen as she processed the information. Now he was worried! Never before had Majandra shown more than a cursory interest in another student, and yet here she was, attention completely drawn to the human paladin.

_Kara-tûr! Could he possibly…? No, I'm just imagining things._ Majandra tore her eyes away from the curiously intriguing man and back to her friend. "Perhaps," she finally answered his question, but it wasn't the reply he was looking for. "But that is neither here nor there. Now, what about tonight?"

"Tonight?" Shade's face was blank for a moment, and then red-tinged comprehension flooded his ebony cheeks. "Oh! Right, tonight. Don't tell me you forgot what day it is!"

"Graduation day." Majandra replied as she stood abruptly, mind suddenly focused on a new target, and stalked towards Hearse's platform.

"Well, yeah!" Shade hurriedly got up and fell into step beside her, matching her feline-like strides with a balanced saunter. "But tonight, after the ceremony, there is supposed to be a grand ball for all the students."

"And?" Shade's face fell at her tone, but, before he had a chance to ask, Hearse's was already addressing them.

"Ah!" the big man boomed down at them, voice as soft as he could get it out of respect for their sensitive ears. "My favorite half-breeds! What can I do for ye?"

"I was wondering if you had any new opponents for me," Majandra replied easily, trading the usual wariness in her voice for warmth and respect. "You know, just a bit of a workout before this bunch leaves and a bunch of greenhorns come in."

"You'll be hard pressed to find a partner, then," Hearse replied, but Majandra could see his eyes flickering about the hall as he measured and dismissed possible fighters. "No one wants to show up to the ball, dressed up in their feast day finery, with a beat up face and sore body!"

"I could've told you that!" Shade added irritably. All he wanted was to ask his friend if he could escort her to the ball, and she chose fighting over talking to him!

"What about…" Majandra made a show in scanning the gym for an opponent before pausing on the gold-cloaked paladin. "Him! I don't think I've ever seen him before, and rumor has it that he's a skilled fighter."

"Well," Hearse mused to himself as he stroked his stubbly chin in thought. "I haven't truly had a chance to see him fight yet, so I guess that's a yes! But only on one condition." Majandra choked down the burst of excitement she was feeling and nodded quickly. "Practice weapons only, and neither of you better be taking a trip to the infirmary. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Majandra saluted and then brushed past a speechless Shade as she headed towards the weapons rack.

**A/N:** seeing as you made it to the end of this page (provided you actually read my author's notes), will you consider reviewing? Anyone who does will get a plot cookie! (and my ever lasting devotion, besides)

LFK


	5. Darkness Falls

**Disclaimer:** for the billionth time (sigh) I don't own anything but the concept.

**A/N: **hmm, now for the chapter I first wrote when my older brother died. Nice. Glad I rewrote it, because it was probably crappy as all hell. Read on, erstwhile appreciators of literature!

LFK

_**Neverwinter Academy, Fighter's Training Hall…**_

"Come on, lad, I know you can do it! Let's go back to the top and keep working from there." Kaerion Galadorn sighed internally as he watched the young, fair-haired boy awkwardly draw his over-large sword and settle into his attack stance. "I remember when I was first learning my craft," _Though I'm sure ANYONE is better to begin with than this guy!_ "And it took me many days to master this first kata. Just keep trying and you'll soon get it!"

"Um, okay Lord Galadorn!" the lad, Bim was his name, straightened up after the confidence boost from the paladin and began his practice sweeps anew.

"Alright then," Kaerion backed away to watch with a feigned critical eye and then returned to his spot on the wall. "You go on ahead. I'm watching." _How in the name of Lathander was I roped into this? All I wanted to do was find the bloody mess hall!_ Suddenly, he heard a mumbled curse and then a thump, followed soon after by the clank of steel on stone.

"Don't worry about me, Lord Galadorn!" Bim shook his head dazedly as he stumbled to his feet and then struggled to lift the greatsword up after him. "Just, practicing falling is all!"

Kaerion took one look at the state of the lad, blue and white uniform torn in various places from his OWN blade, and groaned into the palm of his hands. _Of all the places!_ He thought with tired remorse as Bim's blade squealed on the bare stone, _WHY did it have to be Neverwinter?_

Less than two weeks ago, Kaerion had been enjoying a well-deserved, short break between campaigns against evil in only the best of ways; eating hearty, drinking smartly, and wooing the women of Shigai, his hometown in Kara-tûr. Though a proclaimed native of the Far East, the paladin's roots lay in the Sword Coast and Waterdeep, where his family had carved its own niche in the vast merchant empire.

_And speaking of home,_ Kaerion's thoughts returned to the present, and he found his gaze had wandered far a-field from his bumbling trainee and to the wall on the other side of the hall. _Why does that person seem so familiar?_ As he watched, the deeply cowled figure jumped and then began speaking rapidly to a dark-skinned fellow who joined it against the wall. Just that one movement, a slight shift in the folds of his cloak, revealed pale ivory skin, a curvy, feminine build, and what appeared to be a black tipped tail.

_A woman! And a demon at that! Where have I-_ "Wait a moment!" he started forward as he realized what made her seem so familiar. Something about her tickled the back of his mind insistently, almost begging for recognition. "That's-" just as he was about to approach the strange pair, an explosion rocked the room.

"What in **cough** blazes **hack** was THAT!" Kaerion exclaimed as the memory disappeared in a flash, aided in part by the lungful of colored gas he'd inhaled and a narrow escape from Bim's panicked swing.

"Watch what you're doing with that thing!" the paladin shouted as he caught the blade in the palm of his gauntleted hand and wrenched it away from the boy. "This, Bim, is –not- a toy!"

Meanwhile, as Kaerion lectured the boy firmly on the use of a weapon, Sergeant Hearse was chewing out poor little Master Jaroo, the gnome mage in charge of arcane training.

When the room finally returned to normal again, with Jaroo, and Bim to a lesser extent, completely humbled, Kaerion noticed the mysterious woman exchange a few more words with her companion and then stride off in Hearse's direction.

_Now I wonder…_ the paladin waited until he was sure they were headed in his direction before quickly turning around and heading in the direction of a free combat dummy.

Making sure he was on the side facing towards Hearse's platform, Kaerion drew a longsword and dagger from his impressive arsenal and began warming up with the flourishing dance of steel that made up the swashbuckler's discipline. As he shadow sparred with the wooden limbs of the dummy, blades flashing in complex patterns and forms, the paladin kept a sharp eye on what was happening less than fifteen paces away.

"Ah, my favorite half-breeds!" Hearse boomed, loud enough for Kaerion to hear quite clearly. "What can I do for you today?"

"I was wondering if you had any new opponents for me." The woman replied pleasantly, warm tone dispelling the cold aura draped about her like a cloak. The rest of the conversation was carried on too quietly for Kaerion to do much more than follow the change in speakers, focusing most of his efforts on the melodious voice of the woman.

_What is she?_ He wondered as he paused in his dance to wipe sweat off his forehead. He was beginning to regret coming out in full kit to be tested by his new commanders, though he did indeed look impressive in his silver plate and gold cloak. _She sounds and speaks like an elf, yet she associates with a half-drow instead of her own people. There are no high elves here, so that may explain her cloak, yet from what I saw, she has the complexion of one of the Tel'Quessir. No, the better question is _Who_ is she?_

"How about him?" Kaerion snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Her voice, and turned to see the cloaked woman pointing directly at him.

"Me?" he pointed at his own chest, nearly forgetting the keen dagger in his hand until it scraped across his breastplate. But Hearse had already turned away to consider the proposition.

"Fine," the big man huffed, stroking his beard, "but there will be conditions! Practice weapons only! I don't want to send either of you to the infirmary before the big dance."

"Yes sir!" Kaerion blinked as the woman, _skipped_, away towards the weapons racks with what appeared to be a genuinely eager grin.

"Uh, sir?" he walked up to Hearse and bowed slightly. "Why didn't I get a say in this fight?"

"Because I wanted to see this!" Hearse chortled, beer belly rumbling under the links of his chain shirt. "You, the newcomer and wild card warrior, versus her, un-proclaimed champion of the academy and envy of all."

"Yes, yes," Kaerion replied hurriedly, "but _who_ is she?"

"That, my boy, is for you to find out." Hearse looked up as the woman returned with two padded sticks the length of her forearm. "Now hurry! You are using real weapons against her, but make no mistake, that is no real advantage."

Kaerion bowed again and then walked towards the chalk circle beneath the platform where She was already waiting, weapons ready.

"Habari. Ani mitsrigi niana kume?" (May I ask what your name is?) Kaerion bowed formally in the Kara-Tûran style and then settled into his fighting stance, longsword and dagger exchanged for a single bastard sword and shield.

The woman froze and then nodded stiffly, returning the greeting and adding, "My name is irrelevant to an unproven boy. Fight well, and I may consider it." As she spoke, she swept her cloak off her shoulders and to the ground, revealing more of the mystery that had gotten him into this mess to begin with.

_I see!_ Kaerion couldn't tear his eyes away from the exotic woman before him._ A fey'ri! Now I remember!_

"What're you looking at?" Her tail lashed angrily, flicking side to side like a feline's, as her amber eyes deepened into a light rose. Sharp, silver horns gleamed within the complex braid that fell to her waist.

"Nothing." Kaerion replied as his face went up in flames. "Are you ready, or do you want to talk more?"

"You aren't ready for this, pretty boy." And then, right before his eyes, she disappeared.

Kaerion barely had time to raise his shield in defense before two strikes impacted with stunning force against his left arm, jarring the limb straight to the bone. He felt her slide by him, but was too late again when the arch of her foot slammed into the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward a few steps.

"I told you, you weren't ready," he looked up and she was standing before him, breathing evenly and without hint of discomfort in her black tunic and pants. "This city is without hope if those bastards running the place think you're the best there is to offer!"

"Ready?" Kaerion laughed, startling the woman, as he tossed his shield to the side, not noticing as the crowd that had surrounded them shifted out of its path. "I was just testing you! I've heard of you, fey'ri, and your accomplishments. Perhaps you are a match for me, though I think not!"

"Really," she drawled, reversing her grip on both weapons. "I've yet to encounter anyone who could match me in fair combat, and it'll be long before anyone does!" she launched herself at the paladin once more, and was surprised when he met both her blades with his own at the wide hilt of his bastard sword.

"Hmm, don't think you were expecting that." Kaerion gave his most infuriatingly charming grin and was rewarded with a snarl as she broke the lock and then slammed a foot into his gut before dancing away with a self-satisfied grin brightening her features. The following exchange tested both combatants to their limits, each move punctuated by harsh breaths and the clash of steel on steel as first the woman and then Kaerion pressed the advantage.

Finally, breathing hard, Kaerion shoved her back and lowered his sword.

"What?" she demanded, ignoring both the sweaty strands of hair teasing her lips and the sting of bruises on her arms and upper body. "Why are you stopping?" several observers murmured uneasily at the smirk that twisted her lips, and the bright light in her _golden_ eyes.

_Gold?_ Shade wondered as he watched his friend suck in air as she watched Kaerion intently. _I thought this was a serious fight, yet she seems to see it as _fun Only once had he ever seen the golden light of happiness in her normally reddish eyes, and, now that he thought about it, it had been during their one fight against each other.

Kaerion seemed to realize this fact as well, and laughed heartily before calling out, "Perhaps we should make this more interesting!"

"How?" she actually _laughed_! "I thought you were enjoying yourself! I know I am. I've yet to face anyone who has given me as much trouble as you, Master Paladin."

"Why thank you," Kaerion bowed slightly and returned the grin. "And I you. Now, I suggest a little wager. Should you defeat me in the next ten minutes, I'll…" he paused in thought. He was here to help Lady Aribeth protect Neverwinter, as well as find a cure for the plague, and surely this woman was as well. "I'll speak to Lord Nasher on your behalf." He ignored her frozen look of shock and continued. He'd seen the silver bracelet bouncing around her wrist, and the sight stoked his formidable temper. "But, if I win, then you will allow me to escort you to tonight's ball, where we'll speak of our communal homeland, among other things."

She seemed to think for a moment, torn between pride and years' worth of caution, before nodding in agreement. "Majandra," she added, more of an afterthought. "I am Majandra Damar."

_Majandra…_ Kaerion nodded, and the battle resumed in earnest. Right off the mark, Majandra landed three hard blows to Kaerion's sword arm before being forced back by an undercut to her gut followed by a swift riposte into her right shoulder.

"Gahh!" she stifled a moan as the sharp blade pierced through her shoulder with a surgeon's precision and immediately slid out, warm red blood spurting onto her clothes and across Kaerion's breastplate. She could feel the demonic rage, power, surging through her body, aching for release, and, for once, she was grateful to the piece of silver giving her a reason not to.

"Damn!" Kaerion immediately lowered his sword and moved closer with a hand ready to catch her should she fall. He completely missed the smirk on her face, and was surprised when she took his hand and pulled him over her shoulder. He hit the floor with a crash and groan, and realized only a second later that she was straddling his waist with a padded blade to his throat.

"Tie…Kaerion?" Majandra held him down for a moment and then stepped back to offer him a hand. Her _injured_ hand.

He stared at his for a moment, at the already healing wound in her shoulder, and then accepted, letting her heave him to his feet unaided.

"Tie…Majandra." They stood like that for a while; hands clasped tightly, and simply unraveled each other with their eyes, each searching for the lost link that would connect their pasts. Finally, someone broke through their thoughts and brought them back down to earth.

"That was one hell of a fight. Well done, Majandra." Blushing furiously, a trait she despised about her ultra-pale skin, Majandra broke Kaerion's grip and turned to face her "jailer".

"Mikhail." She said tonelessly, though a slight twitch of her lips let lie to the game they were playing. "Come to make sure the 'dangerous demon' hasn't slain anyone? How long were you here?"

"Long enough to see you take a trouncing and have to resort to trickery to eke out a tie." Mikhail replied in the same fashion, chocolate-brown eyes glittering in amusement.

"Ah, trickery it wasn't." Kaerion put in humbly, missing the quick glance of respect and thanks from Majandra, and the nasty glare from Shade. "I should know by now that in a real life situation, hesitating will get you killed. I hesitated, and Majandra would have killed me for it."

"Whatever, we both of us know how that battle would have turned out for real." Majandra tossed her practice blades at one of the still-gawking bystanders and then bent to pick up her cloak, sweeping it around her shoulders with a well practiced motion. "Meet me in the audience chamber before Lady Aribeth's speech, and we'll discuss our plans for the ball. You can ask her about Nasher there as well."

Kaerion just nodded and cleaned his blade before sheathing it beside the greatsword on his back. "Will do, and see you then." He turned and bowed to Mikhail and the still unnamed darkelf. "Gentlemen."

Majandra and her companions watched as Kaerion made his way out of the training hall and in the direction of the mess hall, his prior destination to begin with.

"Wow," she muttered under her breath as she watched the walking tank leave. "He's really as good as they say. If that had been a real fight, I could've ended up dead!" she paused, and then smirked. "Nah! I just didn't try hard enough! Paladin my ass!"

"You didn't seem to mind it when he checked out your ass!" Shade growled as he stepped in front of his friend's vision, ignoring the sharp glare Mikhail sent his way.

"Excuse me?" Majandra's voice was icy cold, and the rose that tinted her eyes could have melted the skin from his bones on the spot. "I don't think I heard you correctly. You did just say that you want me to kill you and introduce you to the masters of the Abyss, right?"

Shade ignored her words and grasped her tightly by the hand, red eyes boring into her own with frightening intensity.

"All I wanted was to ask you to accompany me to the dance, yet you wouldn't even give me the time of day! Do you know how long I watched you from afar, learning your schedules and routines, your favorite foods, your favorite ways to humiliate people, the way you fight before I mustered up the courage to approach you? I talked to you, shared in your jokes, followed your lead, and BEFRIENDED YOU! And what do you do? The first chance you get, you go traipsing off into the arms of a bloody paladin! By Cyric, you make me sick!" Shade was breathing hard by the end of his rant, eyes slightly unfocused and sweat beading his ebony brow.

"Sorry, Shade," he didn't see her fist as it swung through the air to connect with his jaw. He looked up at her from the ground, eyes wide with shock as he realized what he'd done. "But I don't feel _comfortable_ spending time with someone who stalked me!" she sneered down at him, spat at his feet, and then stalked off, tail lashing furiously.

"Now what made you think that was a good idea?" Mikhail finally asked when the silence had gone on long enough, and his charge was out of sight. "You of all people, her so called friend, should have been able to see how she really felt about the paladin. Fool." The stolid man hoisted the half-drow to his feet and then pushed him away.

"But why didn't she listen to me before? I dropped enough hints, so I thought." Shade replied mournfully, eyes locked on his boots as though they were the most interesting things in the world.

"You know how she gets when she find something to occupy her mind, idiot. There isn't enough excitement in her life here, and, just like the great cats of Calimshan in the zoo, she's wasting away from boredom."

"I see." Shade said mournfully, hiding behind his white bangs in shame. "Well, goodbye for now, I guess."

Mikhail just nodded and headed off in the direction Majandra had gone, back towards their rooms.

_**Majandra and Mikhail's Suite, Neverwinter Academy…**_

"Just who the hell does he think he is!" Mikhail hunched is shoulders slightly as he neared the room he shared with the volatile daemonfae, anticipating the tongue-lashing, or at least the temper tantrum that would be awaiting him on the other side of the oaken door.

"Calm down, girl." He said as he stepped into the room. "He was just… shooting his mouth off?" Expecting the suite to be a wreck, Mikhail was surprised to no end by the site that greeted his eyes. Instead of the innards of pillows and shredded cloth scattered across the floor, instead there were sheets of parchment lying in crumpled balls across the floor.

"What are you doing?" the weapons master asked as he made his way across the cluttered floor, stepping carefully around what could've been demonic mines for all he knew. "And why isn't the room completely destroyed like last time?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Majandra grumbled as she wrote swiftly and neatly with the quill pen, shoulders shaking every once in awhile from the suppressed rage. "I'm writing that damned report Nasher ordered I write for his intelligence department concerning this 'plague'"

"I see." Mikhail sat on the couch and said no more, adding to the scratch of the pen the whisk of a whetstone across his glaive, a curved pole arm. For hours, the two friends sat in silence, each engrossed in their own work, until a heavy knock came to their door.

"I'll get it." Mikhail said as he set aside his spear and stood up, muscles creaking from disuse.

"whatever." Majandra grunted as she continued writing. The piles of parchment had grown exponentially in the last three hours, and she still didn't have a satisfactory paper.

_You know what?_ She thought, ignoring the low murmur of voices behind her as Mikhail and the newcomer spoke. _This is stupid._ She crumpled up the piece of paper she was working on once again and tossed it to the side before taking out her final sheet.

_The plague of Neverwinter can only described as a curse for a few specific reasons. _She wrote._ Firstly, plagues and sicknesses usually originate in one area before spreading to infect others. This plague began almost simultaneously in all four districts of the city, barring the city core, suggesting foul play or interference. Secondly, there has been no word of plague from any of the surrounding villages and environs, therefore it couldn't have been brought in by trade, as was suggested by Lord Nasher. A supporting fact to this is that it is the dead of winter here in the northern regions, and all sicknesses move slowly, as does trade. _

_Finally, and perhaps the most defining to one such as I, is the content of the blood of the victims. Blood, a usually pure substance, especially that springing from the heart, was instead laced with streams of dark magic, nearly undetectable unless specifically looked for. The only reason I knew of it was the inadvertent ingestion of blood from a group of human guards that attacked me in the city core._

_As ordered, I have presented all of my knowledge to the officials of Lord Nasher and the guardians of his city. It is my hope that this, as well as my good behavior in the past months, will be reason enough to free me from my bonds and give me leave to exit the city._

_Majandra Damar, Survivor_

"Majandra! I have good news!" Mikhail said excitedly from behind her as he closed the door with a sharp clack.

"Uh, what?" she replied warily, unused to the amount of emotion the normally stoic man was showing, and had been showing pretty much all day.

"Here!" he took his hands from behind his back, revealing a finely carved leather sword belt with two sheaths clipped on each side.

"No way," Majandra breathed as she reached a hesitant hand for her long absent weapons. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

"Yes," Mikhail replied simply, an honest smile gracing his features as he watched his young charge buckle the belt around her thin waist and then close her eyes with a shiver of pleasure.

_Majandra! Demon Child!_ Rekkei and Tekkei-maru's voices exploded in Majandra's head like a long dormant geyser; painful as the bond between girl and wakizashi was reopened, but just a soothing as sinking into the warm waters of a hot spring.

_I've missed you both so much!_ She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, but two streams of clear liquid slipped down her cheeks regardless. When she'd lost her weapons, her only friends and lifelong companions, she'd held off the grief by keeping angry and busy, aided by the hostile environment she was in. Now, though, all the pent up grief surged to the fore, and she felt her shoulders shaking.

"Hey," she looked up through swimming eyes to see Mikhail standing over her, chocolate eyes brimming with compassion as he brought her to his chest in a comforting hug. "Shh, it's ok. I know how you feel."

_Pfft, how would he know how we're feeling right now?_ Rekkei snorted in Majandra's head, a comforting, though perpetually angry, presence in her mind.

_Oh, shut up, Rekkei!_ Tekkei replied wearily, a soothing voice in the dark void. _Can't you see that he's a weapon master? He'd know._

"How?" Majandra voiced Rekkei's argument with a soft voice. She hadn't let anyone in like she had Mikhail since her father's death, yet she found that they still barely knew anything about each other.

"It's… a long story." Mikhail said finally, still rubbing soothing circles around her lower back. "One that I've told few people. Heh, frankly, no one's really asked before."

"Tell me?" Majandra's voice was like that of a young child begging for a bedtime story, completely ignoring the good news that Mikhail had promised before her breakdown. "We'll trade a tale for a tale, promise."

"How about this," Mikhail scooted away from the girl self-consciously and returned to his seat on the couch opposite Majandra's desk, picking up his glaive carefully. "I'll tell you my story when we return after the ball. Lady Aribeth has requested your presence at the graduation taking place in an hour, and you need time to get ready."

"What do you mean she requests my presence?" Majandra asked, gaze resting on the carved ivory haft of Mikhail's weapon. She'd seen the gentle look in his eyes as he sharpened it late at night when he thought she wasn't looking, as well as the fierce anger when any other dared touch it. "I was already going to the ceremony anyway with Kaerion, and I can simply deliver the report to any of her little lapdog paladins the next time we go out, or….OOHHH!" she exclaimed nearly keeling over backwards in her hurry to stand. "You mean-?"

"Yes," Mikhail said with a proud smile. "The combined efforts of myself, Aribeth, as well as a few of the instructors here have managed to persuade Lord Nasher that you are safe among the citizens of the city."

"Yes!" Majandra threw her arms around him for the second time in an hour and then jumped back, a look of shock covering both hers and Mikhail's faces.

_Now where did that come from?_ Tekkei-maru asked amusedly from the depths of her mind as the fey'ri and weapons master moved away from each other.

_Wherever it came from, it's sickening!_ Rekkei-maru replied irritably.

"Um, I think something's wrong," Majandra muttered as her pale skin flushed red. "I'm not normally this, well, _emotional_, if you know what I mean."

"Neither am I." Mikhail replied, shaking his head slowly at the strangeness of it all. "What's different about today?"

"Nothing," Majandra thought for a moment and then added, "the only atypical thing that happened was…. Jaroo's smoke attack! It must have swept most of the academy for at least five minutes before dissipating. Everyone must have been breathing it in."

"Do you think that would also explain Shade's behavior?" Mikhail stood, expression shadowed with worry at what appeared to be another untimely coincidence to the plague.

"Maybe," Majandra replied, "if so, I've got to find Shade now and apologize for hitting him, among other things."

"You go and do that," Mikhail stretched his tense muscles before sitting back down with his glaive. "I'll make sure the report is delivered to the proper authorities and then meet you in the graduation hall in an hour.

Majandra nodded her understanding of the plan and swept out of the room in a flurry of cloak and tail.

"Well, I guess that leaves you and me, my dear." Mikhail stroked the blade of his weapon with soft fingers and got an answering rosy glow and feeling of warmth from the sentient weapon.

_**Rogue Training Center, Neverwinter Academy…**_

"What the hell was I thinking?" Shade growled to himself as he tinkered with the lock on the practice test in the Rogue's training hall. "I never would say anything hurtful like that to Majandra! She's the first friend, true friend, I've had in years! I'd never touch her in that brutish fashion." His mutterings continued as the stubborn lock refused to yield to his picks.

Suddenly, Shade heard quiet steps behind him and felt the threat of violence looming in the air. Just as he heard the beginnings to an all too familiar spell, the half-drow whirled around and tossed a throwing knife in the direction of his attacker. There was a bright flash of light, and Shade felt his heart stop dead in his chest. The last thing he saw before death claimed him was the beaky nose of a gnome and the jarring yellow and purple uniform that only one being could possibly stomach.

"I'm sorry…Majandra…" he whispered as air whooshed out of his lungs for the last time.

"Hehehe," Jaroo chuckled insanely as he glared down at the body of one of the most competent students in the school. "One down, and many to go! All for the glory of the Masters!" his magically conjured gas was already wrecking the emotional stability of all the inhabitants of this excuse for a school, and, soon enough, none of the students would be able to fight with any ability, much less pick up the right side of their weapons!

With another soulless laugh, the gnome spit on Shade's body and exited the dark training room, confident that the next wave of horrors would take care of any students he and his compatriot didn't annihilate.

_**Fighter's Hall, Neverwinter Academy…**_

Hearse was watching the doorway to his Hall when he saw a flash of purple and yellow from the corner of his eye waving the confirmation he'd been waiting for. With a deep chuckle, the burly man watched with satisfaction as his blissfully unaware students stumbled about drunkenly and without a clue as to what was really happening as one of his black-garbed henchmen began relieving them of their weapons. Soon enough, the clean up crew of little vermin would arrive to take care of the wannabe adventurers and his thankless job would be over.

_**Graduation Hall, Neverwinter Academy…**_

Kaerion made it to the graduation hall at the agreed upon hour just as Majandra came around the opposite corner with an apprehensive expression on her face.

"Majandra!" he called out, proving that she seriously hadn't been paying attention to where she was going as she noticed him for the first time. "I'm glad you could make it, but you look like something's troubling you."

"Have you seen Shade?" she replied distractedly, one hand stroking the blade at her hip nervously. "Mikhail and I realized that the smoke we inhaled during that accident was making us a little less, uninhibited with our emotions, and I just wanted to apologize for something I did."

"Well, that does sound serious." Kaerion frowned in reply, "I haven't seen him, but I'm sure he just wants to be by himself until he can face you."

"I'm sure that's it," Majandra nodded and then seemed to come back to herself. "Right then, are we doing this thing or not? Lady Aribeth awaits us inside." The paladin nodded and held open the door for her as she strode into the room confidently.

"Ah, Majandra!" Aribeth looked up from where she was standing at the center of the room and called her over with a happy grin. "Come, bring our guest and speak with me. I have something of importance to tell you." Ignoring the stares of the other students in the room with them, Kaerion and Majandra did as they were told and approached the lady paladin.

"My Lady," Kaerion bowed to his religious superior, "I am Kaerion Galadorn, Paladin of Lathander the Morning Lord, and his representative to the city during this horrible time. I was honored to accept your request that I come, and hope that I can assist you in any way possible."

"Thank you for accepting our request for aid in these dark times, Lord Paladin. I trust that with your help, we will have the city cured of this plague in no time, and or people safe." And with that, the introductions were put behind them and Kaerion, with a glance from Majandra, left the two women alone to talk.

"So, Majandra," Aribeth smiled warmly at the other woman and dropped her informal manner. "How have you fared these last two months? Well, I hope."

"There've been ups and downs, milady," Majandra replied honestly, yet unable to be as informal as the friendly paladin was trying to be. "Truthfully, today has been the best as of yet. Oh, and thank you very much for giving Mikhail the authority of," her smile turned into a sneer for a moment, "taking me out on walks through the city in the evening."

"it's the very least I could do," Aribeth replied, her own expression darkening as she recalled the fight and how much she'd had to sacrifice just to allow the innocent, well, mostly innocent, fey'ri a few hours of freedom.

"Oh, well, it was more than anyone else has ever tried to do for me." Majandra muttered as she broke eye contact, but not fast enough to hide the flash of vulnerability and loneliness.

"Majandra," Aribeth was reaching out to the younger woman when she felt a strong warning from her connection with her lord Tyr. "Everyone! Draw your weapons for we are under attack!" as she spoke, she drew the enchanted bastard sword swinging at her side and charged at the black-garbed man who appeared in a corner of the room with a burst of magic.

"What the hell?" Majandra exclaimed as she twisted out of the way of a horde of magic missiles that went careening into a group of students behind her. Her eyes flashed deep crimson as she heard their death screams, and she charged the mysterious assailant with a snarl on her lips. The mage barely had time to whimper before Rekkei and Tekkei-maru bit into his flesh like hungry wolves and brought him to death's embrace.

On the other side of the room, Kaerion was engaging a third assassin with a group of graduates, and they already had him on the defensive. Kaerion saw his opening and struck without mercy, watching with cold eyes as he impaled the man on the length of his sword.

Aribeth took her man down in record time as well, the only evidence of a slight struggle being a tear in her right shoulder and the red hair that hung over her eyes.

"Who are you working for?" she demanded of the fourth and final intruder as she and the students cornered him against the wall. "why have you attacked this place?"

"You think I'd tell you anything, bitch?" the man snarled. Majandra was watching him intently and could see his hands moving behind his back in an all too familiar spell.

"Dammit, Aribeth, get down!" she threw herself at the paladin just as the spell went off.

"For the Masters!" the man cried the massive fireball consumed his body and those of the poor souls standing nearest him. The concussion from the blast took out a pillar and some of the ceiling above them, and marble rained down upon their heads.

Majandra came too a short time later as the irritating sharp edges of Aribeth's armor poked her in her aching ribs.

"By Lathander," Kaerion groaned from across the room where he'd been thrown, shaking his golden head to clear it and remove the dust and pebbles that had gathered there. "There's a reason I hate mages…"

"At least you're alive," Majandra replied as she forced herself into a seated position beside the unconscious paladin. "I'm willing to bet we're some of the few still alive after the attack, which I'm sure occurred in other parts of the academy. This felt a little too concentrated, almost as though they were trying to take out the strongest first."

"I agree." Kaerion replied as he retrieved his blade from where it landed not far from him and sheathed it. "We need to get out of here and investigate."

A groan from beside Majandra had her bent over with clear worry in her eyes as Aribeth struggled out of unconsciousness.

"Are you ok?" Majandra asked as she helped the woman sit up. "Hurt?"

"I'm fine." Aribeth replied shortly, and the look in her eyes surprised both warriors. "But we need to take care of the invaders before anything else. Now, Kaerion, I need you to do something for me." She stood slowly, unaided, and fished a chain from around her neck.

"I am yours to command, my Lady," Kaerion replied respectfully as he and Majandra got up as well.

"Good," she nodded and held out an iron key to the paladin. "This key opens the great doors to the restricted side of the academy. I want you to take it and find the Waterdhavian Creatures. I know I've spoken to you about them, and how they are our hope for a cure to the plague. I need you to defend them from the attackers at all costs. Surely they believed I would be wherever the creatures were, that's why they were so powerful. For me to go would be leading them straight to their prize."

"I understand." Kaerion replied as he took the key and, without another word, stomped out of the room.

When they were left alone, Majandra turned to Aribeth and said, "How come you gave him leave to go fight? What am I supposed to do?"

"You're coming with me, Majandra," Aribeth replied, and the glint in her almond shaped eyes nearly gave the fey'ri pause. She'd been told how frightening her eyes could be when she truly lusted after someone's blood, but she didn't think they could be as terrifying as Aribeth's own were at the moment. "We're going to clean up the scum that think they can operate like rabid beasts in my city. Now come, we have vermin to kill." And with that, the two women stalked out of the room with bare steel glittering in their hands and hate in their eyes.

_**Kaerion**_

Creeping down the eerily silent halls of the academy was a nerve-wracking experience to the high-strung paladin. Each slight shift in the shadows cast by flickering torchlight had Kaerion whirling towards the sound, sword bared and shield raised for defense.

"Hehehe," Kaerion stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of high-pitched voices coming from nearby. "Master say we got get loot treasure much much!"

"Oh yes!" another of the little beasts crowed to the sound of coins and jewels jingling in a sac. "Money for clan!"

"Goblins," Kaerion hissed in disgust as the small green-skinned monsters came into view. "Dirty vermin!" he checked his blade and then howled a war cry that made his targets' greasy hair stand on end.

The four goblins barely had time to shriek in fear before the paladin's blade cleaved through their bodies with frightening efficiency. Their heads hit the ground in a series of thuds, one after the other, followed by the crash their armored bodies made soon after.

Kaerion flicked his blade clean of the multi-colored blood staining the steel and continued onward in his search for the Waterdhavian creatures and any survivors he might encounter.

He hadn't been walking long when he heard the quiet sounds of a human in distress. Heaving a world-weary sigh, Kaerion entered the large study to find a uniformed boy with shield and mace huddled against a dark corner with tears trickling down his pale cheeks.

"Here now," Kaerion said gently, trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible. "Don't cry. You're safe-"

"No I'm not!" the boy cut him off as he scrambled to his feet, weapons held threateningly. "You're probably working with them, just like some of the others! I had to watch as Hearse cut down my brother Bim! He was my only family in this city!"

"Ah, Lord," Kaerion shook his head tiredly, "Poor lad. That would make you Pavel, then. His little brother."

"So you're not with them?" Pavel replied as he took a tiny step forward, hope flickering in his eyes. "Take me with you! I can fight, and I know this part of the academy better than you probably do!"

"And how would you know anything about the restricted areas?" Kaerion asked with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't they usually restricted for a reason?"

"Um," Pavel blushed profusely and looked at his boots with a sheepish grin. "I was interested in one of the maids that worked here and, well, she showed me around."

"That sounds innocent enough," Kaerion agreed after a moment of touch scrutiny. "Well, you can't stay behind, so you'll just have to prove your worth by watching my back. Let's move out."

The paladin and boy disappeared back into the ruins without another word spoken between them.

_**Majandra**_

"Just die already, you little bastards!" Majandra snarled as she cut down a goblin scrabbling at her back with a dagger just in time to meet another attacker as it launched itself at her torso. She raised Rekkei-maru a foot away from her chest and sneered at the look in the goblin's eyes as it realized it was about to impale itself. There was a sickening thud as the hilt jarred against her chest, but Majandra was ok in the most important way the goblin was not. "I don't like wasting my time fighting you little, shits!"

The "little shits", as she'd so kindly put it, had evidently decided a group attack was better than watching their comrades die at the end of her deadly blades, and threw themselves at her in a flurry of stabs and blows from their tiny weapons.

"Oww, dammit!" Majandra growled as she went down under the dog pile of dirty, greasy, _slimy_ creatures. A good four goblins held down her arms apiece, but they made the huge mistake of leaving her legs free.

"Haha, we gots you!" one of the larger goblins crowed in her face. "Masters be pleased with demon girl." Majandra's eyes narrowed and flashed in anger. The poor goblin would never know what hit him.

Across the way and out of range of Majandra's chaotic battle, Aribeth was fighting her own battles against the true fighters of the insurgency. Black robed men, at least ten of them, lay crumpled at her feet in bloody pools, and yet still more came.

"You cannot win, intruder!" Aribeth said with steel in her voice as her bastard sword cleaved through the wimpy metal of her opponent's rapier. She laid the blade at his concealed throat and added, "Tyr will grant you the mercy of a swift and just death should you tell me who you are working for and what your goals are."

"All glory to the Masters!" the man's maniacal laugh was identical to the others' as he slipped away from her blade and charged her with a belt knife.

"So be it then," Aribeth murmured as she whipped her blade up and over her left shoulder. The man's head hit the bloodstained marble floor with a thunk, followed soon after by the rest of his spurting body.

There was finally a lull in the seemingly respawning enemies in black, and Aribeth paused in time to see Majandra drop the larger goblin's body onto the floor with the other shredded corpses. The fey'ri glanced over when she felt eyes upon her, and smiled wickedly at the paladin, eyes gleaming almost insanely. Her tail rose in the air, teasingly seductive as it caressed her left leg to hang in front of her eye, and she flicked blood off of it with frightening nonchalance.

"A lovely night for a dance, wouldn't you agree, my Lady Paladin?" Majandra asked in a husky tone as she slinked towards her companion. Her eyes were blazing crimson, and that same smile was still on her lips. A white fang peaked over her lips, tipped with a bead of blood.

"Majandra," Aribeth replied warningly as the fey'ri moved ever closer. "I'll have to ask you to stay away from me until you explain what you're on about."

Majandra threw her head back and laughed, an eerie, chilling sound that echoed throughout the hall. "Do you not wish to dance with me, paladin?" Rekkei-maru twirled across her fingers and into her palm like magic, the blade gleaming crimson like her eyes. "I don't want to be disappointed!" She seemed like she was about to attack her companion when a shudder ran through her whole body.

"No," the blade dropped out of her hands as they rose to her head and clenched into fistfuls of hair. "NO! Rekkei," her voice sounded like the old Majandra again, just as soft but without the blatant sexuality and overwhelming assertiveness. "Get out! I control this body, not you!"

Aribeth watched in shock as Majandra stumbled back against the wall and slid to the ground, pounding her head against the stone as she went into a verbal argument between herself and her alter ego.

Finally, the hall was quiet, and Majandra seemed to have calmed down a bit.

"Majandra, tell me what's wrong." Aribeth knelt beside the shaking girl, for that's all she appeared to be now, and, careful not to make any sudden movements, laid a hand on her shoulder. "You can trust me to help. I trust you, after all."

Instead of flinching away from the touch, though it took all of her willpower not to do so, Majandra let out a shuddering breath and released the tension from her muscles.

"After a battle," she rasped after a moment, voice hoarse from the effort to rein in the blood lust that still pulsed inside her, "I would ask that you stay away from me and not touch me until you are assured of my," she paused and grinned crookedly, "sanity. My temper can be rather fearsome, and the Demon doesn't distinguish between friend and foe while threatened." She looked up into Aribeth's gentle expression and added, "It's my fault for not warning you what I was capable of before going into battle alongside a half-demon. I apologize for what happened."

"What exactly are those blades of yours?" Aribeth asked after a moment. She was stroking Majandra's hair gently, trying to calm the fey'ri down before they got into another battle situation. "And why did you call out the red one's name? I have many questions for you that need to be answered for the good of all if something like this has the ability to set you off."

Majandra's expression froze, and Aribeth winced as the open, vulnerable look in those amber eyes slammed shut with indefinite finality.

"We should move on," Majandra got to her feet, completely disregarding Aribeth's questions and the hurt look in the paladin's eyes. "We'll be overwhelmed if we stay in one place long enough for that tracking spell on you to lock on again." She strode off without Aribeth, and didn't turn once to see if she was following.

Aribeth watched the fey'ri stalk off with a worried expression on her face. She'd always known Majandra had a violent streak in her genetic makeup, but this had been the first time she'd seen the Demon in her friend in full, bloody action. She thanked Tyr that Majandra was an honorable woman seeking to aid Neverwinter, and that Nasher hadn't ordered anything overly rash. She was terrified of what the results might have been after seeing the carnage Majandra was capable of.

_So, Majandra,_ Rekkei-maru whispered from the depths of her mind as she strode along the darkened hallway in search of a quiet place where she could order her chaotic thoughts, and calm down from the bloody high she'd just been on. _How did you like the feeling of being a true Demon, if only for a moment? Did you like the power it gave you to see that paladin quaking in her boots as you stalked her like prey?_

"Shut up." She growled, trying her best to ignore the newly unwelcome voice of her "evil" blade in her head. "Just, shut up."

_I'm sorry, Majandra,_ Tekkei piped in a second later. _I didn't know how linked your emotions were to our relative domains. It appeared up until now that we were to be nothing more than guides, consciences to balance your demonic and elven natures. We'll have to investigate more into this._

"We'll do no such thing!" Majandra snapped. "I just have to stay in control, that's all. No more blood rages, no more using Rekkei in battle.

_What!_ The crimson blade pulsed angrily on her thigh as it shouted in her head. _You'll do no such thing! Just admit it! You ENJOYED being the cause of Aribeth's fear, of the raw power you had!_

"You're right!" Majandra shouted in reply, almost wishing the blades could have physical bodies if only so she could hit her errant companion. "I liked it too much, which is why I can never experience that kind of raw energy again. It would destroy everything Father made me, and I won't let that happen!" all three fell silent at the truth in Majandra's words and, though still fuming at the rejection, Rekkei promised not to mention the subject until they were out of this situation.

"Stupid Paladin and her questions," Majandra muttered irately as she stalked down one of the more familiar and better-lit halls, almost daring someone to attack just so she'd be able to take her frustration out on somebody.

She was passing the doors to the Rogue's Hall when she thought she saw a flash of familiar white.

"Shade?" she whispered as she stepped into the room warily. "Is that you?" she murmured a few words under her breath and an orb of white light brightened the room considerably, inadvertently revealing one of her worst nightmares.

Lying spread-eagled in the middle of the room was Shade's twisted corpse, dull crimson eyes staring blankly into her shocked amber.

"Oh, no," Majandra whispered as she knelt beside his head and stroked his forehead gently. "Not again. Please, not again."

_ Majandra? Oh, honey, I'm so sorry._ Tekkei-maru said gently, blue magic working against the negative red she could feel unbalancing Majandra's Ki in favor of the Demon. _There isn't anything we can do for him except pray that his elven soul could enter Arvandor._

_He was a good warrior, and a strong companion to you, De- I mean, Majandra._ Rekkei-maru added grudgingly. Even Majandra's evil conscience had felt the hurt when Majandra's father was killed, so she could understand the feelings going through her charge.

"I was too late." Majandra murmured as a single tear trickled down her face. "Again. Why am I always too late to save those I care about? Why am I always alone?" that single tear was all she allowed herself to shed as she carefully unbuckled Shade's sword belt and tied it around her waist so the sheath of his katana was parallel to her hips.

"Goodbye, Shade Darkstalker," Majandra bowed formally to her fallen companion and placed a light kiss on his sword hilt. "May you live on forever in the tales of your comrades and the blade of your sword."

"Majandra?" Aribeth called from nearby. "Where are you?" without another glance at the body of her friend, Majandra walked confidently out of the room and into Aribeth's line of sight.

"There you are!" the elven paladin exclaimed as she saw her companion step out of a dark room and acknowledge her presence with a tiny smile. "I was afraid you'd left me alone in there," Aribeth finished with a grin. Both of them knew that between the paladin and the fey'ri, there was enough honor to gorge even the stuffiest cleric.

"Yes, I was definitely planning on leaving my only ally against Nasher and his army of bigots in the lurch." Majandra replied with that crooked grin that both annoyed and attracted Aribeth. Why was she feeling this way towards the beautiful fey'ri when she had Fenthick as an able and willing lover?

"Um, yes, well," Aribeth stuttered as she tried to get her mind off the confusing questions and back to the task at hand. "Shouldn't we move on?"

"Of course." Majandra grinned again and strode off after the flustered paladin.

_She likes you, you know?_ Tekkei-maru said as Majandra whistled the mourning song she couldn't sing over Shade's grave.

_Yeah,_ Majandra replied mentally as she gave the slight woman a once over. _I know._ Perhaps she'd see this folly out until the end this time. It wasn't everyday someone, much less someone of the same gender, found her appearance attractive. Her experience with romance was near slim to nil after her years on the Planes, though she'd learned the ways of love from the best.

_**Kaerion**_

"Good, Pavel, good!" Kaerion laughed heartily as he watched the lad pound skeletons into powder with powerful strokes of his Morningstar.

"Haha, I actually like this, Milord Galadorn!" Pavel replied with a satisfied grin from the havoc he'd reaped on the ones responsible for his brother's death. "Perhaps I am cut out for hero work after all!"

"You never should have doubted yourself in the first place." Kaerion chuckled as another skeleton veritably vaporized from a hard tap. The paladin just didn't have the heart to tell the boy that these lesser skeletons were little more than fodder to slow down armies, not the real deal. He felt the boy should have some taste of vengeance before he could be told otherwise

"Well," Kaerion grunted as he stood up straight from the wall he'd been leaning on while watching the fun. "I think it's about time we moved on. From what you've told me, we just need to get across the large entry way and we'll be in the stables that hold the creatures captive."

"Yes, sir!" Pavel saluted with his powder-covered mace and fell in beside his instant hero without having to be told twice.

"Well," Kaerion said as they stared out at the three goblins and score of skeletons that stood between them and the creatures. "It's now or never."

The small skirmish was over almost before it even began after a single use of Kaerion's turn undead power. The three remaining enemies had, instead of doing the smart thing, raised their weapons and charged the paladin and his semi-squire

"Well," Kaerion said a moment later as he stared disgustedly down at the three goblin corpses. "That was rather short lived. We'd better get to that stable, especially if they made it all the way here already.

The two men ducked into the musty smelling building and were greeted with chaos.

Two men, one older and garbed in Helm's colors and the other younger and dressed as a Tyran, were standing back to back in the middle of the room, fending off a large group of goblin "elites".

The younger, a moon elf with blond hair from the looks of him, turned to Kaerion and called out, "the creatures! Protect them! They mustn't escape!" almost as though his words were prophecy, the gates locking the Waterdhavian creatures in were destroyed by the attackers, and the four creatures almost immediately escaped out the door or through their own wizardry.

"Dammit!" Kaerion cursed as he and the three others cut easily through the goblin group. It seemed that since their duties were done, they were told to simply let the fight end. Of course, the goblins were too stupid to realize surrender was a choice.

"Who are you?" the elven man demanded the moment the last body hit the ground. "And did anyone else make it out of the academy alive?"

"My name is Kaerion Galadorn." Kaerion bowed quickly, hiding a wince as he felt the muscles in his back creak in protest. "This youngster with me is Pavel, and we were sent to guard the Waterdhavian creatures."

"And a right good job you did of it," the older man grumbled sourly as he straightened his red and black robes. "Any earlier and you would've been able to do the deed yourself instead of watch it happen!"

"Don't mind Desther," the younger man responded with a disapproving glare at his counterpart. "It's just the stress, and the fact we lost our only cure in the space of a few seconds! My name is Fenthick, priest of Tyr and consort to the Lady Aribeth."

"I see," Kaerion replied. "Well, Aribeth is the one who sent me, so I suppose you're the one I was to report to."

A few minutes later, Kaerion had agreed to meet Fenthick and the others in the Halls of Justice at the end of the week, where he would be given his next assignment.

"It looks like it's time to start a new chapter in life, Pavel." Kaerion said as they were leaving the ruins of the Academy. "Are you sure you wish to stay by my side and fight for the lives of the people of this city?"

"I'm not sure if I'm hero material," Pavel replied slowly, honestly. "But I'm willing to give it a try in your service. Do you think the temple of Lathander would allow me to change my Tyran allegiance to them?"

"I believe so," Kaerion replied. "I believe so. Now come. We must find an inn to rest, somehow." The two men were swallowed up quickly by the city of Neverwinter, all too aware that their adventure had only just begun.

_**Majandra**_

Majandra and Aribeth arrived at the stables after hours of fighting and evading the men that seemed to appear out of nowhere in waves. Finally, when it looked like they were in the clear, the two women had made their way back through the labyrinthine hallways and to the stables.

"No." Aribeth whispered as the wrecked building lay before their eyes. "We were too late. Now, the whole city will suffer because of my blunder." All of the magically sealed stalls were swinging open, and there was evidence of a struggle from the blood on the floor.

"Pull yourself together!" Majandra snarled, and Aribeth's head snapped towards hers with an expression of startled hurt on her face. "We don't have time to place blame or think of what ifs." Majandra continued more gently once she had the paladin's attention. "Now, we must focus our goals on figuring out who was responsible for this and how we're getting the damned things back."

"You're right." Aribeth said after a moment. "Of course you're right. I understand what you mean, and am in perfect agreement. We have no time to lose! We must make haste to the Halls of Justice and rally our remaining forces unto our new goals."

_Are you ready for this?_ Came the combined voices of the Maru's as Majandra watched the determined paladin slip out into the night with a quick gesture for her to follow.

"I was born ready." Majandra replied seriously. She paused in the doorway to look back once and whispered, "Shade, Father, watch over me in this new chapter of my life."

There was an empty silence in the tomb-like academy as the last remaining student slipped out into the night after her companion, wary to the webs of treachery and deceit being woven upon the very air of the city.

**A/N**: WOAH! That was long! Way long! But you guys deserve all thirty-one pages of this for my long absence. If you were reading closely, you would have caught the less than subtle hints at future pairings, but I'd still like to have your opinions. I'm a big Aarin Gend fan myself, but what's life without a triangle or square thrown into the mix? Next time: (theoretically) Chapter One


	6. Three's Company

**Disclaimer:** Everything that is obviously not mine, I don't own. Stay away from Majandra, Kaerion, Mikhail, and the Maru's!

**A/N:** Thus we arrive at chapter six. Who liked the first five chapters? Well, stuff starts getting crazy starting now, so hang on tight! Oh yeah, I hope you do the review thing too.

LFK

_**Majandra's Room, Halls of Justice**_

The week following the attack passed with agonizing tediousness for Majandra and the Maru's. Being locked up upon their return to the Temple of Tyr - in the _exact same room_ even - after risking their lives fighting off the real enemies was a real blow to Majandra's pride, and she vented her frustration every chance she had with her reluctant guards.

"This is so bloody stupid," Majandra growled as she threw one of the healing potions she'd requested from the temple store next to the ten or so others laid out on the covers of her lumpy mattress. "Orc shit! I slay scores of little monsters - who ruined my night and killed my friend, by the way - and I'm rewarded with another 'request' to stay in the temple! Bloody hypocrites… I bet Kaerion got a bleeding five star inn…." Her angry mutters continued unabated as she laid first her sword belt containing the sheathed Maru's, and then Shade's scuffed, black leather belt on the bed next to her pile of potions.

_Looks like you're well prepared to play battle slave to the elf and her Tyran friends, Demon-girl._ Rekkei-maru's "voice" had been a wearing, sarcastic presence in Majandra's mind ever since she lost control back at the academy, and the crimson entity hadn't once let her forget how much she'd enjoyed the rush of power. _ I thought you had enough of that, after what our last master did to you._ Majandra's eyes flashed at the pain that particular memory brought back, but she otherwise ignored the cruel words of her… could she even call Rekkei a friend anymore? The crimson blade hadn't been this volatile since their time in the Abyss, nor had she deliberately provoked Majandra's wrath to such an extent that she actually lost control in its entirety.

_For the last time, Rekkei!_ Tekkei-maru complained impotently, voice less tangible than her counterpart's. _Let Majandra alone, at least until we know what's to become of us._

_Stop whining, you blithering idiot!_ Rekkei snarled in reply. _We already know what Nasher and his pawns plan on doing to us. They'll use us until they get what they want, their precious cure, and then they'll get rid of us. You know what those of the Tyran faith like to do to ones such as us!_

Majandra winced and held her head for a second before pressing down on her ears and screaming, "Would the both of you PLEASE shut up!"

_Touchy._ Rekkei remarked a second later.

_Through no small thanks to you,_ Tekkei added right on her heels.

"Damn, stupid things," Majandra muttered as she began stuffing the potions into a small bag of holding. "Why can't you give me a moment's peace?"

_Come into your head and we'll show you._ Rekkei replied slyly. _You know how to do it, you're just too much of a coward to do so._

"Fine!" Majandra snapped as she roughly picked up her twin wakizashi and sat down against the foot of the bed. "But, just as a warning, I fully intend to hit you, if not kill you, if you show your ugly face."

The last thing she heard before sinking into the light trance was Rekkei's parting, "you mean, your ugly face…"

When Majandra next opened her eyes, she found herself seated upon the spire of a tall mountain. To the one side there was a forest that looked identical to the Nurikabe of her childhood, from the mist that blanketed the ground to the hazy shields that blocked the unwary traveler. On the other side of the massive dreamscape was a recreation of her worst nightmares: the Abyss.

"Took you long enough to venture here once again," Majandra turned to the right at the sound of that husky, seductive voice to see a clone of herself step out of the roiling chaos of the Abyss. "And here I was thinking you didn't like us anymore." Rekkei-maru's avatar was bathed in a faint crimson light that seemed to emanate from her glowing eyes, and her demonic qualities were even more apparent than Majandra's. The tips of her horns curled back a good foot, her eyes were slit like a cat's, and a pair of ragged, black wings hung from her shoulder blades.

"Much has changed, since you last sought the void, Majandra." Another clone, this one covered in a weakly flickering, golden light, appeared from the forest. Tekkei's avatar was nearly transparent compared to Rekkei's, and her benevolent voice wasn't nearly as strong as her counterpart's spiteful tone. Unlike the other, Tekkei looked like a normal elven woman but for the pair of white wings trailing feathers to her feet.

"That's easy to believe," Majandra replied sarcastically as she hopped off her pedestal and turned to the grinning Demon. "Oh, and Rekkei?" She cocked her fist back and ruthlessly punched her in the jaw. Pain exploded in her own face at the contact, and Majandra was thrown back a step.

"Oww, dammit! What was that for?" Rekkei scowled at her, left cheek already darkening in a colorful bruise.

"Because I wanted to!" Majandra snapped in reply, caressing her own hurt cheek. "Besides, it answers one of my questions about this damn link of ours. What happened to change it from simple telepathic communication?"

"I actually have a theory for that," Tekkei replied, interrupting the death-glares being sent and received between the two hot-tempered women. "But you aren't going to like it."

"What do you mean I'm not going to like it?" Majandra growled as she turned her back on her fuming double. "I'm already not liking very much, you two included! Just tell me already."

"You have the plague. Well, curse." Tekkei's simple words stunned Majandra into silence. "We've seen evidence of its effects in how the people of the city are acting, and the way it taints their blood. Well, since we DID, um, ingest some of it accidentally, we got some of the dark magic in our body as well. Simply, the curse is designed to sap all the positive feelings from the host, along with their strength and vitality, until they're left as shells of themselves. That's when they die."

"What!" Majandra and Rekkei exclaimed a second later, voices blending into one. The crimson twin shut her mouth with a snap at the angry glare Majandra sent her way.

"First of all, there is no "our" body here. It's just ME. Secondly, what does any of that have to do with this?" she waved her hand between the three of them. "My problem is that you and you are getting a little too liberal with my body for sentient swords."

"Pfft," Rekkei snorted a second later. "Neutral girl still doesn't get it."

"Look, Majandra," Tekkei said gently. On second thought, her voice was always gentle anyhow. "I've given this a lot of thought, and I think I know what's been happening lately."

"Ah, shoot." Majandra sighed as she resumed her seat on the boulder. "It's obvious I won't be leaving until this is resolved."

"Well," Tekkei continued. "It seems that your father was a more devious man than we thought he was. I'm not saying he was evil or wrong," she added hurriedly, seeing the red seep into Majandra's eyes like floodtide. "Just that he was taking better care of us – you – than we thought."

"Just get to the point, Tekkei." Rekkei grumbled from where she stood a few meters away, closest of the three of them to the Abyss. "We really haven't got all day."

Tekkei nodded and continued, white wings fluttering nervously. "Well, to put it bluntly, Rekkei and I aren't just consciousnesses grafted into your blades. Your father, our father, found that as you were growing, you had a tendency to fluctuate from either ends of the alignment spectrum, and all because of your mixed blood. You had the capacity to do good, but, all too often, your evil side would take over. As a last resort, after seeing his efforts in controlling your wild nature were in vain, he separated your… personality, I suppose, into three parts. Rekkei is the evil, Tekkei the good, and then you. Majandra, you are the neutral entity, and thus the foremost in control of our body."

"Looks like daddy wasn't such a saint after all, Maggie-poo." Rekkei sneered as Majandra's face fell and then hardened.

"So, what you're basically saying is that you're my alter egos?" she said stiffly, refusing to look in Rekkei's direction.

"That's right," Tekkei replied. "And the plague is slowly changing the balance in us. You probably caught the disease the moment you set foot in the city, but drinking the blood of those infected guards has only sped up the process. All too soon, I fear, the good in you will be drowned out as you and Rekkei slowly begin to think more and more alike until you are one."

The three of them sat in silence for a long while, each caught up in their own individual thoughts. Rekkei saw their curse as an opportunity to finally be freed of her mind-prison, and able to become the person she was sure Majandra as a whole was meant to be. Majandra was shocked, torn between anger at her father for toying with her mind in such a fashion and grief that he wasn't the one to finally tell her this. Tekkei, on the other hand, had already accepted her place as least of the three, and was worrying about how the cards would finally fall into place, hoping desperately for Majandra to be the final victor.

"I think I need a nap," Majandra said suddenly, and, without warning, the dreamscape collapsed in an explosion of blinding light as Majandra keeled over in a dead faint.

**A/N: **ok, so this turned into a little bit of a Majandra interval, but I swear I'm still writing! This is just to tide you guys over until the end of SOL/Finals week. I'll have something new out by the weekend. By the way, did you like it?


	7. Fat Lords and Farm Boys

**Disclaimer:** only own the stuff that's obviously mine. Hey! You! Get your crumby hands OFFA Majandra!

**A/N:** Wow, sorry for the uber lateness of this chapter, but I hit some serious writer's block during the last couple weeks of school and early summer. Just a couple of changes here, including Pavel being only sixteen and one or two others. Anyhey, enjoy chapter seven, and I hope you review!

-LFK

_**Castle Never**_

"For the last time, Aribeth!" the graying lord pounded the arm of his throne to make his point, "I will not tolerate that mongrel running loose in my city! For all we know, the girl is part of the reason the plague befell our city to begin with, serving her masters like a faithful hound!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, my lord," Aribeth replied steadily, keeping the disappointment from showing in her face and voice. "Majandra is an honorable woman, skilled warrior, and worthy of your trust. If only you would meet her, you would see tha-"

"I gave you my answer, Lady Paladin," Nasher interrupted in a coolly formal tone, "That animal will be going out on a chain or not at all, and that is final! Now, return to your duties and continue spearheading the search for the cure. I've heard reports about the paladin Kaerion Galadorn, and he appears to be one of our best hopes. Focus on him and your efforts, Aribeth, not on your pet demon."

"As you wish, my lord." Aribeth dropped a stiff bow and swept out of the throne room, shooting a glare at Desther as the priest of Helm passed her on his way in.

The lady paladin left Castle Never in a hurry, pausing only to boost the morale of the guardsmen she passed on her way out. Upon reaching the Core, Aribeth stopped at one of the railings that overlooked the lower levels of the district and sighed. The once spotless streets of Neverwinter were covered in garbage and filth, and piles of corpses besides. The sounds of happy children, laughter and high-pitched voices, were replaced by the cries of the grieving and the moans of the dying.

"Why are we suffering this?" Aribeth whispered under her breath as she watched another convoy of guardsmen trundle into the Beggars District with another wagon full of bodies. "What sins are we paying for, Lord Tyr, that all of my people must suffer? Please, give me a sign!" she waited for a moment, but her plea was met with silence. "So be it." She murmured as she turned from the ledge and headed for the Halls of Justice, a cool breeze blowing leaves in her wake.

_**Trade of Blades, City Core…**_

The Trade of Blades Inn, Tavern, and general mercenary haven was bustling with activity from the moment a weary and hungry Kaerion and Pavel stepped through the doors, hoping against hope that there would be a spare room for at least a night.

"Do you think they'll have room for us here, Master Kaerion?" Pavel asked tiredly as he set his pack down on one of the empty tables nearest the door. "I don't mean to complain, but it's long past moonrise, and aren't we to meet Lord Fenthick and the others tomorrow?"

"Yes, Pavel," Kaerion replied as he dropped his own bag, "We might have to make due on the streets like the last couple of nights though, so don't get too comfortable." That said, the paladin left his squire to order their meals and walked up to the beefy innkeeper standing behind his bar.

"What can I getcha?" The man asked as he idly wiped down the irreparably grimy barstand. "Booze? Firewhiskey? Wine?"

"How about a room?" Kaerion asked, deftly rolling a heavy gold piece into his palm. "Doesn't matter what kind, I just need two beds."

"One hundred fifty gold." The innkeeper said a moment later. "Take it or leave it."

"One hundred fifty!" Kaerion exclaimed. "That's completely unreasonable!"

"Sorry, bub," the man shrugged and went back to his 'cleaning'. "But times are rough, and a man's gotta make a living." Kaerion crossed his arms and frowned down at the smaller man.

"Now see here," He began. The rest of the conversation degenerated into a debate over the quality of the room versus the price.

Meanwhile, Pavel had completed a hearty meal of beef stew and fried potatoes, and was observing the other occupants of the relatively small common room.

_I wonder if Master Kaerion has managed to grab us a room?_ He thought as his gaze fell on a gnome chattering at what appeared to be the speed of light into the face of a bemused elven cleric with the symbol of Sehanine Moonbow on her chest. In another corner of the room, a beautiful female bard was snarling at a rather cold looking, dwarven monk as he continued talking over her insults.

"Excuse me, young sir," a deep voice said from behind the boy, snapping him out of his people watching. "But do you think there is room for my companion and I at your table?"

"Oh," Pavel said as he turned in his seat, "Of course there's," he looked up and finally saw who was addressing him. "ORC!" he yelled as he tumbled out of his seat and landed on the floor with a painful thud.

On the other side of the room, Kaerion heard Pavel over the background noise and turned in time to witness his squire fall gracelessly from his chair in the face of a large half-orc, and the barbarian's apparent halfling companion rolling on the floor laughing.

"Fine, take your one hundred fifty!" Kaerion growled as he slapped a pile of gold onto the table and snatched the key the innkeeper was holding out before turning to his young charge.

"Masterrrr!" Pavel yelped as he scrambled behind Kaerion and held his knees tightly. "Saaavvvee meeeeeee!"

"Hahahahahahaha!" There were tears streaming from the halfling's eyes as he clutched his stomach snickered at the confused human boy.

"I apologize for my companion's behavior, and for frightening you, young master." The half-orc said gravely, bowing to both humans as he spoke. "My name is Daelin Redtiger, and this is my companion Tomi Undergallows. We are mercenaries for hire."

"Thanks, Daelin," Kaerion returned the bow and pulled Pavel from behind his back. "But I think my squire owes you an apology as well for the disrespect he has shown you. Pavel is but a boy, and has yet to experience the world outside of his farm. Pavel?"

Pavel bowed low and uttered a tiny, squeaky apology before backing up a step so he was slightly behind his master. "Sorry, sir."

"I accept your apology," Daelin replied formally. "Have no fear, young man, for I have yet to hurt a person who did not truly deserve it."

"That's very admirable," Kaerion said as he dropped his bag next to Pavel's with a thankful sigh. "My name is Kaerion Galadorn, Paladin of Lathander and servant of Neverwinter." He gestured at the table and he four men quickly sat, echoing sighs of relief to be finally off of their feet.

"So yah workin' wit the big shots up in there, eh?" Tomi said in his commoner's accent. "Wit that Aribeth chick, the scary old geezer, an' the flighty elf-boy, righ'?"

"Well, yes," Kaerion responded. "It all began when I received a letter from Lady Aribeth herself…" the rest of the evening was spent with the men regaling each other with tales of their adventures and travels, each trying to outdo the other with hilarity and outlandishness. They didn't notice the pair of eyes watching them from the window.

**A/N: **Sorry this is so short after such a long delay! (Runs from readers) I promise to have something for you guys around next Sunday, seeing as I'm leaving for Seattle for a week this afternoon. So! Leave me some reeeeeeallly nice presents why doncha, and review! Thanks for reading!

LFK


	8. Storytime

**Disclaimer:** ditto the last seven chapters

**A/N:** So, I had a really great time in Seattle, and would like to thank everyone for reviewing while I was away! FINALLY going to get into the campaign, so if that's what you were waiting for, here it is! Theoretically…

LFK

_**Halls of Justice, Majandra's Room…**_

"Majandra!" Aribeth called for the third time, knocking on the heavy steel door that stood between her and the daemonfae's room. "Majandra, are you in there?" she knocked one more time and then sighed, reaching into a pouch on her belt for the key to the door.

The door swung open silently on greased hinges, and Aribeth stepped into the dimly lit room, careful of any obstacles lying in her way to the bump on the coverless mattress.

With a wave of her hand, the lady paladin lit the candelabras and knelt besides the sleeping half-demon. "Majandra," she said in a loud whisper, hand reaching out to touch the girl on the shoulder. "I need to ta-"

"What are you doing here, my lady?" Majandra sighed as she turned over, startling the paladin back a step. "Has Nasher sent you to make sure your 'pet demon' is still in its pen?" her voice was laced with scorn as she shifted away from the elf, yet her red veined eyes bespoke of deeper concerns.

"I came on my own," Aribeth replied as she returned to her seat on the tiny bed. "I was worried about you, and it seems as though my concern was not misplaced. What is wrong, Majandra?"

"Nothing." The fey'ri replied with a half-hearted attempt at a scowl. "Go away."

"Tell me. You are my responsibility, and I won't leave until I know you're alright."

"What is with you?" Majandra demanded hotly. "Can't you tell this really isn't a good time? If I wanted your concern or help, I'd ask for it!"

_Seems like you wanted her help not long ago,_ Rekkei whispered at the back of her mind, flashing images taken from Majandra's subconscious as she slept. _Yes, you want her, terribly, terribly so…_

"Why are you so resistant to me?" Aribeth finally exploded, missing the momentary blankness in the fey'ri's eyes as she communed with her other half. "I'm your only ally against Nasher, and I'm putting MY position on the line defending you! Why can't you just let me help you?" the two women sat in an intense silence, glaring at each other with faces inches apart.

Finally, Majandra averted her gaze and muttered, "I'm tired of being used. Tired of this plane, this existence, and this situation! I have no other choice but to do as that man demands, and I'm just plain tired of it all."

"Who hurt you so badly that helping others is such a horrible thought, no matter how it's done?" Aribeth whispered, wiping away the single angry tear falling from Majandra's eye with a gentle caress.

"One doesn't survive long on the planes without being hurt or hurting others." Majandra replied wryly, inwardly raging at herself for being so weak.

In the days since the fall of the Academy, as well as the revelation from the Marus, Majandra had felt her elvish senses and abilities slowly drain away until she was but an irritable shadow of herself. Her limbs felt weighted down and slow without her inherent dexterity, and the song of the stars grew more distant each and every day. Even Tekkei's voice had faded away under the advance of the disease that poisoned their blood, leaving Rekkei to spout endless streams of violence like a little imp on her shoulder.

All those problems combined had robbed Majandra of the ability to sleep, and poor Aribeth had interrupted one of those attempts.

"Majandra? Majandra?" Aribeth's voice snapped the fey'ri out of her thoughts and back to the present.

"What? Oh, please excuse me, my lady. I was thinking." Majandra apologized, voice gentler than before. "What'd you say?"

"I asked if you would tell me more about yourself," Aribeth replied somewhat sheepishly, a blush darkening her cheeks. "I want to know who you are, and why you're always so sad."

_Wow,_ Majandra thought as she grinned slightly at the elven paladin. _She's rather cute when she blushes. Wait! Why am I thinking such things?_ An answering blush spread across her face as she choked out a reply. "Uh, w-what do you want to know?"

"Anything." Aribeth replied immediately. "Everything. Your experiences have made you the beautiful woman you are today, and I wish to share that."

_Am I flirting with her?_ Aribeth wondered as another blush suffused her cheeks. _I AM flirting with her! Why, when I have Fenthick? I'll think on this later._

"Surely you jest, my lady," Majandra blushed as she replied, head ducked to avoid Aribeth's gaze. "My own looks pale in comparison to those of present company."

"I promise," Aribeth leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Majandra's knee, warmth surging through her body at the contact. "We'll trade a tale for a tale, and anything said in this room remains between us." The two women sat in comfortable silence as Majandra fought with herself and a century's worth of trust issues, though Aribeth was content to simply watch the stunning fey'ri as those amber eyes searched for a place to begin.

"I was born three and a half centuries ago to an elven father and, according to him, Erinyes mother." Majandra began slowly, voice uncertain as she shot the attentive paladin a glance. "I don't know all the details, but what little I know is that my father was once a formidable mage in the elven community of Evereska. Dealings with planars were his forte, but when the council learned of the extent of his obsession, namely conceiving me, they threw him out. I was about three when my mother disappeared, and have few memories from that time, thank the gods."

"Why?" Aribeth interrupted. "Losing my mother and father was the worst thing that could ever happen to me, and I thank my lord Tyr everyday for the memories I have of them."

Majandra grimaced at the mention of the 'just' god and replied, "Just what do you think would have happened to me had I been left in the care of my mother? I, a half-elven, wingless abomination? Those were her words, not mine."

"I can't even imagine what you and your father had to go through," Aribeth surprised the fey'ri with the sincerity of her words. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be." Majandra brushed the words aside as she rearranged her limbs into a more comfortable position. Somehow, during the conversation, Aribeth had managed to move close enough that their knees touched and their fingertips brushed against each other with each slight shift. "Mother," the word was filled with hatred and loathing, shocking the paladin's sensibilities. "Showed me how misguided my love and search for her were in the years after my father's death."

_**Sigil, One Hundred Fifty Years Ago…**_

It was raining miserably in the great City of Doors, though the great demons and devils roaming the straights paid the weather no mind. Sigil at it's best was dangerous, even with the enforced truce between natural enemies, and the potential for violence lay heavily in the air. The streets of Sigil were no place for a tiny, half-elven girl.

A small, cloaked figure slipped through the crowds like a shadow, quick fingers dipping in and out of purses as she passed. She never knew where her next meal was coming from, but eating out of dumpsters had gotten old fast. Being alone on the planes was hard, but things were about get a lot harder as her passage to the Horn and Hoof Inn was marked by countless eyes.

Without pausing to mark her surroundings, the girl ducked out of the downpour and into the rowdy furor of the Inn's common room.

"Excuse me, sir," The girl said in an innocent, polite tone to the big man behind the bar. "I'm looking for a woman who goes by the name Indara. I was told she'd be here."

"And who might you be, little missy," the tiefling barkeep replied in a mockery of her tone, "That you want to know of Mistress Indara?"

The girl lowered her hood and proudly stated, "Majandra Damar, daughter of Brilthor and Indara."

"Well then," the barkeep said dumbly into the sudden silence in the common room. "Go on back."

"Thank you, sir." Majandra nodded to the horned man and swept confidently off. Had she seen the evil glint in the eyes of the patrons as they watched her enter the realm of their mistress, she might have acted upon her sense of foreboding and fled. Minutes later, the air was filled with the screams of a young woman, and the crows of laughter from her tormentors.

_**Halls of Justice, Majandra's Room…**_

"What happened?" Aribeth hesitated, noting the way Majandra's eyes were fixed on a spot across the room.

"She robbed me of my innocence." Majandra replied emotionlessly a moment later. "She greeted me cordially enough, and I believed for a moment that I'd finally found a new home. Heh," she snorted in disgust and fixed Aribeth with a piercing gaze. "She ordered her men to rape me, and watched as they held me down. I still hear her voice in my nightmares, her laughter. 'A child of mine, abomination she may be, is no helpless, innocent little lamb' she said as she leered down into my face."

Majandra had to stop as she felt tears of pure, unadulterated fury building up behind her eyes from the awful memory. She unclenched her fists slowly, feeling wounds on her palms sting for a moment before healing. Suddenly, she was enveloped in a warm embrace from the side, shocking her with the sudden contact. "In Tyr's name, Majandra," Aribeth whispered as she held her close. I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone."

The fey'ri sat stiffly in Aribeth's embrace for a moment before she slowly allowed her tense muscles to relax and accept the comfort in her words. "I've never told anyone this tale," she said softly, almost in wonderment. Light streamed into the room through the barred window high up on the wall, illuminating both women with the gentle warmth of mid-afternoon.

"And you can trust me to hear the rest," Aribeth replied, auburn hair glimmering in the sunlight.

"Very well," Majandra nodded and resettled herself. The paladin had released her, but still had one arm draped over her shoulders in a wordless gesture of comfort. "I don't know how long they held me down on that floor. Hours, minutes, they all seemed to blur together, but I refused to let them see me cry. I was screaming in my head for someone to help me, and, for the first time in my life, someone answered."

"Rekkei and Tekkei."

"Exactly," Majandra confirmed. "Something within in me snapped, and I heard their voices in my head for the first time. I wasn't alone for the first time in decades, and those beasts violating me were the first to feel our wrath." Her eyes flared with fury for a moment and then simmered down like hot coals.

"What happened?" Aribeth asked for the hundredth time that day, eyes wide in awe and shock.

"I killed them all." Majandra replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as though she'd been asked why the sky was blue. "I coated the ceiling with their limbs and washed the floor with their blood. When it was over, I dropped my weapons and fought the urge to scream, to throw up, or cry. It wasn't the first time I'd killed, but it was the first time I had gladly entered the blood rage and _enjoyed_ the blood that coated my hands." She frowned down at her hands as though she could still see the gore dripping from her fingers, and then shook her head to dispel the image. "Indara, the only person remaining alive, stepped forward and touched my forehead, saying 'you have earned your wings, daughter. Welcome home.'" The fey'ri closed her eyes and concentrated, and, for a moment, Aribeth could see a pair of black-feathered wings flaring out from Majandra's back.

"Why can't I see your wings now?" Aribeth asked as they faded from view.

"Because," Majandra replied, "My wings are neither visible nor useable on the mortal plane, and it takes a considerable amount off power for me to materialize them, even for a moment." _But that was too easy altogether,_ she thought with an internal shudder. _Rekkei, what the hell is going on!_ But her demonic counterpart refused to answer, and so the question was forgotten as Aribeth asked another.

"So, it was your mother that used you so horribly." Aribeth said softly, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I understand how strongly you feel about it now, and I swear upon my oath as a paladin that you will be released upon the completion of this business." _But will Lord Nasher let her go?_ She wondered, horrified at the thought. _He's a crafty warrior and cunning ruler, and I can't see him letting go of such an advantage over the others in the Lords Alliance._

"She's the one that introduced me to the Blood Wars." Majandra confirmed. "But that's a tale I will never tell. You owe me one. Now, what did you really want when you came in here?"

"Just to see you," Aribeth responded with a sigh, feeling the weight of duty settling even harder on her shoulders once more. "Fenthick sides with Desther concerning every decision, the priest himself is in the motion of replacing Tyr with Helm in the hearts of the citizenry, and Nasher refuses to see reason and meet you." Majandra flinched as she continued. "I'd rather see you free and hunted than trapped in this plague ridden city, doomed like the rest of us."

"Oh." The fey'ri couldn't think of anything else to say in response to Aribeth's outburst, and settled on amiable silence.

They sat like that for a while, Aribeth leaning her head against the taller woman's shoulder. The moment was interrupted scant minutes, or perhaps long hours, later when Majandra fell into a coughing fit, ivory skin paling as she fought to breathe between hacks.

"You don't look so good," Aribeth said worriedly as she hopped up and returned a split second of later with a glass of water. "Are you well?"

"Just fine," Majandra lied easily, hiding her blood stained hand under her thigh. "When do we get started on the search for the cure? Can't keep the people waiting!"

"Oh," Aribeth's expression was slightly perplexed at the apparent change in Majandra's outlook. "The intelligence finished collecting the required information today, and will issue their report to me early tomorrow morning. We begin then."

"Perfect." Majandra flashed a roguish grin that made Aribeth's heart jump. "Now, I think you owe me a tale."

Aribeth simply smiled and nodded, contentment overriding her fears of the days to come.

The two women sat through the rest of the day and long into the night, trading stories from their pasts like children trade candy, sharing each other's fears and joys as though they'd been friends for years instead of months.

Finally, Aribeth fell into exhausted sleep, head resting in Majandra's lap as the other girl sat up into the night.

_She already has a lover;_ Tekkei's voice invaded her thoughts for the first time in two days, feeling far weaker than before. _What right do you have to intrude on their life like this?_

_She doesn't need the right,_ Rekkei responded quickly, mirroring Majandra's thoughts. _The paladin and cleric are together in name only, meaning she's ripe for the taking._

"Rekkei's right," Majandra replied a moment later, stroking Aribeth's bangs with gentle hands. "But I won't force myself on her, or make her choose. But, no matter. What happens will happen." She turned her head and covered her mouth as another fit wracked her body, feeling her head spin dizzily as it came to an end.

_What happens will happen…_

**A/N:** aright then, chapter eight is finished! Full of Majandra's angsty past, Aribeth's confused feelings, and lovely input from our favorite weapons. Sorry that it was based completely on the two lovely ladies, but Kaerion and the lads get back in the story next chapter. Oh, and sorry if the flirting was god-awful. It's easier to do on a whim than type up with a purpose…

And get this! I finished writing the next five chapters while I was away (as in, DEFINITELY the better part of chapter one), but I'll be grilled fromage before I post a single one of them without a good number of reviews! So, if you have any questions comments and/or flames, feel free to click the little blue button and let me know, hey?


	9. Leaving the Nest

**Disclaimer:** Yes, I totally own Neverwinter Nights. Make that the entire Forgotten Realms Universe! (Maniacal laugh) ok, anyways, Aribeth, Fenthick, etc. don't belong to me.

**A/N:** So, did you review last chapter? Lol of course not! This chapter is more or less later than I intended it to be because was acting like a beast, but then again I just didn't feel like writing another underappreciated chapter. But then my net stopped working and I figured I'd spend the time I wasn't reading writing. Long story short, chapter nine is officially the beginning of the OC campaign now that I've got most of the background stories sorted out.

LFK

**_Halls of Justice, Temple Sanctum…_**

Before dawn even broke the sky, the fate of Neverwinter was divided up and put in the hands of a few brave adventurers, each a stranger to the city and newly arrived.

"Kaerion!" Kaerion Galadorn glanced up from inspecting his blade to see a group of people entering the quiet temple from one of the side doors. He easily recognized Aribeth and a pale looking Majandra, but it took him a moment to remember Fenthick and Desther as the heads of Neverwinter's clergy.

"Milady Aribeth," the paladin of Lathander bowed and gestured for his squire to do the same. "Milords Fenthick and Desther." The leaders of Neverwinter bowed to him in return, and he turned his attention to his one-time sparring partner. "Habari, Majandra Damar of Nurikabe Forest." The others seemed surprised at the venom that came out of Kaerion's mouth as he spoke in Kara-Tûran to the Fey'ri.

"Habari, Kaerion." Majandra gathered herself enough to return the greeting, all the while shouting in her head, _How does he know? I didn't tell anyone what part of Kara-tûr I hail from!_

"Well, now that that's out of the way," Desther said gruffly, shooting a nasty glare at Majandra before dismissing her entirely.

"Let's move on with the business of saving the city, shall we?"

"Agreed," Fenthick replied smoothly, "We haven't much time before the city becomes to unstable to function. Lady Aribeth, will you issue the orders?"

"Very well." Aribeth stepped forward to address the three adventurers. "Kaerion, you and Pavel are responsible for the recovery of the Waterdhavian creatures that escaped during the sacking of the Academy. Now, our intelligence indicates that while the creatures haven't breached the outermost walls, they have escaped the Core altogether."

"So they are in the districts then," Kaerion replied thoughtfully, frowning as he processed the information. "Will we get clearance to bypass the military checkpoints?"

"Yes," Aribeth replied as she handed a silver disk and a small piece of what appeared to be granite to each warrior. "As well as temporary enlistment in the city guard, I have given you each a Stone of Recall attuned to this temple. Should you need healing, supplies, information, or have met success, simply hold it and think of the temple. You will be instantly transported to that portal over there." She indicated a golden circle lying before the altar to Tyr.

"Useful." Majandra remarked as she disposed of the stone and badge in one of the many pockets in her new, custom-made outfit. Each item of clothing was pitch black, from her tunic to her boots, and the whole thing was topped off by her muffler and many-pocketed cloak. (**A/N:** basically, she looks like a Chloe from Noir, Neverwinter style. If you haven't seen Noir, do so! Shutting up now…)

"Cool!" Pavel flipped his stone and pocketed it, only to wilt under the combined glares of the adults present.

"Is that all that's required of us, milady?" Kaerion asked as he stowed his away in his belt pouch. "We mustn't waste any more time."

"You should begin your search in the Peninsula District," Aribeth continued with a nod. "Prison riots have turned the area into a war zone, and we have a feeling any one of the creatures could be responsible. Keep in mind that the goal is to get the creatures back alive, but dead is better than nothing at all."

"Yes, ma'am!" Kaerion and Pavel saluted with fists to their chests and turned to leave, the paladin catching Majandra's eye and reading the message held inside.

"Now, what should we do with the little demi-demon?" Desther sneered down at her, hand closing on the mace at his hip in overt threat. "They're only good for two things: killing and being killed."

Majandra's fists clenched, but she otherwise remained silent. She'd promised Aribeth that she'd try her best to get along with the others, and she'd do it if she had to trample her own pride in the dust. _Oh really?_ Rekkei muttered rebelliously. For a moment, Majandra could've sworn she could see her counterpart standing beside her in an identical pose. _I wonder how that bastard would feel having our steel buried in his gut, eh, Maggie?_ Desther stepped back as a grin of pure, malicious glee spread across the fey'ri's face.

Sensing the rising tension in the room, Aribeth stepped in front of Majandra and impeded his gaze with a frigid glare. "Put a civil tongue in your head, priest. We haven't time for pettiness and fighting amongst ourselves."

"Well said, my dear." Fenthick said in a charming, oily tone that made Majandra's hackles rise when she saw the look of adoration Aribeth sent him. "You, Majandra," the elven cleric continued, "will be under my command as we search for the perpetrators of the attack on the Academy, as well as whoever it was that sent this cursed plague. It is your duty to use your talents to trace this plague back to its origin, and retrieve any information you encounter on the way."

"Understood." Majandra replied shortly, careful to keep her expression neutral. "I'll begin my search with the mages then. I know the taste of dark magic, and especially that in the plague, so I should be able to trace it back to its origins." _Was that panic I saw in his eyes?_ She thought as both Fenthick and Desther shot each other quick glances. _Perhaps I should keep my eyes on the good cleric and his friend…_

_Just kill them!_ Rekkei snarled. _Solves our problems, and if they're traitors, all the better!_

Aribeth shot a glance at the fey'ri and noted the tinge of pink in her eyes and the blank expression on her face, realizing immediately what was going on in her friend's mind. "That's an excellent plan, Majandra." She was relieved to see her friend's attention turn to her and away from the skittish looking cleric. "Good luck, my friend." _What is Majandra to me? I don't know._ "Take care of yourself, ok?"

"I will," Majandra smiled crookedly and disappeared in a rustle of cloth.

"I don't trust that demon," Desther said a moment later, face settled in a permanent grimace. "She will betray us, mark my words."

"I agree with Desther," Fenthick cut in just as Aribeth opened her mouth. "We don't know nearly enough about her to determine her loyalties."

"If anything else," Aribeth stated firmly, "Majandra is loyal to me. She trusts me, as I do her, and both her pride and honor won't let her go back on her word."

"Don't be a fool!" Desther whirled on the lady paladin, venom dripping from her words. "Demon's have no honor, and their bastard ilk even less so! Mark my words, Lady Aribeth: no good will come of an association with infernal kind."

"Then I shall take my leave of you, priest of Helm." Aribeth bowed sparingly to the balding man and swept out without another word, smiling slightly at Fenthick as she brushed his arm in her path.

_**City of Neverwinter…**_

"She's going to figure it out!" a man exclaimed as he stalked back and forth in the dimly lit room. "We're finished!"

"Quiet, fool." His partner remarked calmly. "We will let her trace the magic, and, in doing so, cover our own tracks. Do not worry, friend. We will have her taken care of before she comes close enough to uncover us. Our connections will benefit us greatly, as will our allegiance to the Mistress. Remember, there's a little surprise awaiting the fey'ri at her first stop!"

The first man chuckled roughly and growled, "Look out, demon bitch. When the time comes, I will strip your bones and adorn my armor with your horns!" Evil laughter rang out from both men as a strike of thunder tolled the beginning of the end for the city of Neverwinter. Somewhere, out there, the most sensitive of peoples shook as a terrible premonition for the future chilled their blood…

_**Neverwinter, City Core…**_

"Majandra! Stop right there and talk to me!"

Majandra whirled at the sound of Kaerion behind her and shouted in Kara-Tûran, "Stay away from me, paladin! Stay away from my secrets, lest you get hurt!"

"They are no secret, fey'ri." Kaerion responded in the same language, tone cold. "It took me a while, but I finally remember where I recognized you from. Over three hundred years ago, my family's poorer relatives, the family of my great-great-great (how many greats gets up to three hundred or so years?)… Great-grandfather's brother lived in a village outside the Nurikabe Forest. That forest, said to be inhabited by a wicked elven mage and his pet demon cub. Those two were responsible for the complete annihilation of that village, as well as a good half of the Galadorn bloodline. Why did you do it, Majandra? Did your filthy blood thirst for that of innocents?"

"Shut up!" Majandra growled, red flooding into her eyes. "My father was killed by the so called benevolent leaders of that village for no reason! We were peaceful, at home in the forest. You cannot fault me for getting my just revenge!"

Meanwhile, Pavel watched the exchange grow more and more heated as the two warriors conversed in their native language, growing more and more frightened by the moment. _I thought master Kaerion liked the fey'ri woman!_ He thought as Kaerion's gauntleted hand squeezed the life out of the pommel of his sword. _They're acting like bitter enemies now! Oh, I'm so confused…_ off to the side, Pavel's tiny head proceeded to burst from the strain of thinking so hard, and Kaerion and Majandra were splashed with the gore. Upon tasting the blood splattered across her face, the fey'ri was sent into a killing rampage, slaying the various acolytes and guards scurrying about the area with ease. She was then put out of her misery by a firm blow to the head from Kaerion's razor sharp bastard sword.

Thus, the only hopes of Neverwinter were slain or jailed. Nasher went on to become a dictator in the north, Aribeth committed suicide when Fenthick came out of the closet with Desther, the Marus were melted down into a set of rings that spoke to their bearers, Aarin Gend became a highly sought after male model, Mikhail eloped with his glaive, and everyone else lived happily ever after.

Thus ends Never Again………

(**A/N:** Oh come on! Like I'd actually end the story like that! Though from the serious lack of reviews and over one thousand hits encompassing the previous eight chapters, I think I really ought to:Sigh: go on, keep reading… I don't expect any reviews from ya'll anymore anyways… T-T :feels unloved:)

Meanwhile, Pavel watched the exchange grow more and more heated as the two warriors conversed in their native language, growing more and more frightened by the moment. _I thought master Kaerion liked the fey'ri woman!_ He thought as Kaerion's gauntleted hand squeezed the life out of the pommel of his sword. _They're acting like bitter enemies now! Oh, I'm so confused…_

"So, a Galadorn finally hears it from the slayer's mouth herself." Kaerion said with steel lacing his voice. "Now is not the time to settle our vendetta, fey'ri, but I assure you!" he paused, meeting her bloody glare with an equally ferocious one. "I will have revenge for those of my line lost so many years ago."

"So be it." Majandra spat as she watched the paladin and his squire march off in the direction of the Peninsula District, only to be joined by a huge half-orc and a tiny halfling midway there.

Making her way from the temple and to the huge mage's tower she could see rising in the distance, Majandra banished the memories that two-faced paladin had conjured up. She muttered a few choice curses in the infernal tongue as she ducked into the Guild of the Many-Starred Cloak.

The inside of the tower smelled of dust, parchment, and spell components like any other typical mages' tower, yet it was strangely bare of any of the items that should've carried the scent. Up ahead at the end of the long entry way, Majandra could see two human women arguing, one a fiery red-head wearing tight leather leggings and a red halter top and the other almost lost in the folds of a (haha get this) many-starred cloak; she was obviously a guild member. Off to the side, a gnome was gesticulating wildly as he chattered to the air, the pillars, and, oddly enough, a housefly that seemed to have made permanent residence at the tip of his long nose. (**A/N:** sorry to those who like Boddyknock, but he's going to be **very** insane for the duration of his appearance in this fic. Oops, shutting up again!)

"Excuse me!" she called, and was immediately rewarded as three pairs of shocked eyes landed on her face as she appeared from the shadows beyond the ring of mage light. "Don't worry," she added hurriedly and in a friendly tone as she saw the guild member's hands and lips begin to move in a casting. "I'm tame." She waved the hand with the bracelet on it in the air, making sure the Neverwintians recognized the instrument of their justice.

"What do you want?" the guild lady demanded arrogantly as Majandra slowly moved closer. "Why are you here? I didn't summon you!"

_I doubt she could summon a pixie if she wanted to._ Rekkei smirked from the pillar she had taken to leaning against on Majandra's right. _We should show her what a true demon looks like!_

Majandra shook her head slightly in response to her alter-ego's not-so-subtle request and instead turned her attention to the other intelligence in the room. "I apologize for interrupting you, my lady. I am on a mission of utmost importance under the authority of Lady Aribeth." She flashed the badge Aribeth, silver disk glinting with the unmistakable sigil of Neverwinter appearing in the air before her. "May I have this moment of your time?"

The redhead nodded, eyes calculating, as she stepped aside. "Go ahead. My business can wait." Majandra nodded her thanks and turned to the considerably calmer guild member.

"Um, can I help you? My name is Eltoora Sarptyl, journeyman of the Many-Starred Cloak."

"I am Majandra Damar." The fey'ri replied, gaze trailing back to the fiery woman for a moment before she forced it away. _Feeling the heat yet, Majandra?_ Rekkei walked a circle around her target; tail flicking from side to side lazily. _Violence isn't the only thing that sets demon blood aflame!_

Majandra mentally slapped herself, to Rekkei's immense enjoyment, and forged onward. "I need information on the various mages and labs in the city. Can you help me?"

"Assuredly," Eltoora replied. "The registered mages of Neverwinter have been gone since long before the plague began, attending a conference in Candlekeep called by Kelben Blackstaff. The only mages remaining in the city are those employed by the guard and temple, and convicts trapped in the Prison. Other than that, all I can tell you is that there are four labs, one in each district, reserved for public and private use by Neverwinter law. That's as much as I can help you with, I'm afraid."

"You mean you can't even tell me the exact location of the labs? Street names? Landmarks? Why were you left in charge?"

Eltoora wilted beneath the fey'ri's piercing gaze and mumbled, "I told you, I'm a journeyman. That's the lowest rank in the guild…"

"Alright, fine." Majandra pinched her nose between two fingers in a vain effort to hold off her rising headache. "Thank you for your help then."

"I can help you." The redhead hailed her retreating form with an aristocratic accent. "My name is Sharwyn, bard extraordinaire, and this is my companion, Boddyknock."

"A pleasure, my lady," Majandra replied smoothly, including Boddyknock in her bow. "Now, how exactly can you help me? There's no time to waste." Her shoulders shook as another cough tore through her body.

Sharwyn noted the trickle of red liquid quickly hidden, but tucked that piece of information in the back of her mind for later. "I know the location of each lab, as well as the password to get in since they've been locked."

"And you?" Majandra glanced down at Boddyknock.

"IcanusethetemporaldistancebetweenmyselfandmyfoetolaunchadisruptedphotonbearingchargesnighonUNMEASURABLE,thusrenderingmyenemies'mortallifespanvoid!" he exclaimed in one breath, immensely proud of himself.

"He can do what?" Majandra deadpanned after a moment of shocked silence from all parties. _Can I just kill him? _Rekkei added with a slightly bemused expression on her face.

Sharwyn just shook her head helplessly and replied, "He's a mage. I don't always know what he says, but the basic concept is that he can cast magic missile."

"Oh," Majandra held her forehead for a moment and wished it would stop pounding. "It's great to have your, um, expertise on the team, Boddyknock."

"Shall we leave then?" Sharwyn gestured towards the door. Majandra nodded, and the three adventurers said their goodbyes to a much-humbled Eltoora, leaving the tower and beginning the long walk to the peninsula.

**A/N:** Ya know, I actually considered making this chapter a little longer for you kiddos out there. I mean, it was handwritten that way in my notebook and everything! Ah well, I suddenly didn't feel like writing this anymore, so you guys will just have to bear with until I type the rest of it out. Oh, and do that review thing too please! should i do the next chapter (the peninsula dsitrict) in one or two halves? majandra and then kaerion or vice versa? (Though I haven't a clue why I still ask…) ja ne, readers!


	10. Prisonbreak Pt 1

**Disclaimer:** ditto the last nine chapters

**A/N:** All right, honestly? The verdict is in, and it seems Kaerion is about to get an early release from this fic. I won't kill him off yet, but I'm just going to plain stop talking about him until we get to the end of chapter one. He still gets his job done, but we just won't hear about it. Sound good to everyone? All right, let's get on with it then!

-Kaia

_**Peninsula District, Neverwinter…**_

The Peninsula. A dark, dreary district made up of tall office buildings and apartments, but mostly dominated by the two largest structures in the city besides Castle Never and the Halls of Justice. There was the prison itself, a corrections facility that housed anywhere between seven and fourteen hundred people on any given month, and then the headquarters of the City Guard. Both buildings occupied the same mile or so of land, separated only by a large wall with spikes and the like protruding from every surface. In front of these two buildings was a large square filled with the debris and wreckage caused in the early days of the prison riots and the mass exodus of civilian residents.

Like the Beggar's District, the peninsula was a veritable maze of back alleys and side streets nearly impossible to traverse with both a lack of light and good sense of direction. Here, Chaos ruled, and may the gods help the poor fool who would dare trespass.

_**Kaerion…**_

"Fire!" the crack of bowstrings filled the air as the harassed city guardsmen of the Peninsula Unit fired a round of arrows into another wave of wild, former prisoners sallying forth from the protection of the sturdy walls surrounding their hideout. The battle was far from one-sided in the guardsmen's favor, unfortunately, as the prisoners had broken into the barracks and liberated enough weapons and ammo to arm a legion.

"Master!" Pavel cried out above the clash of steel on steel, and the death cries of fallen combatants. "Help!" he awkwardly blocked a downward stroke on the haft of his mace and countered with a weak thrust to his enemy's gut. The criminal bared his teeth in a psychotic grin as the attack went awry, putting Pavel's blow to shame with an answering one that knocked the boy hard onto his back.

Kaerion heard his squire's call, but was too deeply imbedded in his own battle with a trio of axe bearing half-rocs. "Tomi!" he called out over the din, blocking a bone-shattering blow on his shield and another with his blade as it came at him from the right. "Go help Pavel!"

"Aye, cap'n!" the halfling rogue skittered through the crowd unnoticed, gutting and hamstringing preoccupied fighters with his flashing kukri as he passed. "Pavel lad, hang on!"

Pavel was on the verge of collapse, backed into a corner by a tough looking human wielding a pair of chains in either hand, when Daelin and Tomi came to his rescue. Hewing down a pair of dwarves with his double-sided axe, the noble half-orc was indeed a fearsome sight. There was a flash of tawny hair, and Tomi appeared by Pavel's side, curved blades dripping streams of blood to the muddy ground.

"You alright, kid?" the rogue asked, chest heaving from exertion as he rushed to support Daelin as the half-orc engaged a pair of veritable clones of himself.

"Fine!" Pavel levered himself to his feet and sung wildly with his mace, managing to actually strike a killing blow on a preoccupied halfling rushing by.

"This is it men!" Kaerion's deep voice rang out over the battle as he hefted his sword in the air and swung it forward. "Advance on the Prison! Take no prisoners!" the militia men roared a battle cry and surged after the charging paladin, a hail of arrows announcing their arrival to the convicts huddled behind their flimsy barricades of stone and wood.

The ensuing battle, though not as chaotic as the backstreet fighting they'd gone through on the way to the prison proper, was relatively short and to the point considering how badly the entire enterprise could have gone. The well-trained militiamen, though outnumbered two to one by the masses of convicts, fought brilliantly in units of four, supported from the back by both archers and mages.

An hour, or perhaps scant minutes later, quiet reigned throughout the square. All Pavel could hear was the heavy breathing of his friends, and the sullen murmurs of the remaining guardsmen.

"Everyone alright?" Kaerion wiped his blade on the rags of the fallen before sheathing it wearily, dirt, sweat, and blood staining his golden hair and fair skin. "Is there anyone in need of healing?" there were a few answering grunts, and the paladin administered a couple of precious healing potions to the wounded.

"It seems our efforts remain unrewarded." Daelin rested a paw like hand on the iron gates shutting the task force out of the prison proper, massive chest heaving from exertion. "We may have killed the convicts wandering the streets, but there's still an entire legion of them resting within these walls."

"Yeah," Tomi added, scratching his hairless chin. "And it don't look like my picks will work on a big ol' door like this one."

"So," Pavel began hesitantly, "does that mean we get to go home?" he shrank back as a withering glare assaulted him from four directions. "I guess that's a no then," he mumbled as the adults turned their attention back to the problem at hand.

"Well," Kaerion glared as though the force of his eyes would burn a hole through the cast iron. "Anyone have any ideas?"

"What about that Whentwhistle lady?" Tomi piped up after a moment. "Didn't that guy we saved say something about a secret way in? A tunnel of some kind?"

"Yeah! He said there was a spare key under the… under the…"

"Welcoming mat," Kaerion finished Pavel's sentence with an easy smile. "Good job lads, figuring out our next move. Now, let's get lost before another group of bandits shows up"

The four men, leaving the large guard force behind to keep an eye on the Prison, disappeared into the dark alleyways and began the long walk to the northernmost part of the district.

_**Majandra…**_

Majandra, Sharwyn, and Boddyknock made good time in the Peninsula District, especially so considering all of the obstacles lying in wait when they'd barely gotten through the gates. The sergeant in charge of the militia checkpoint was a hardened soldier, veteran of many campaigns against the forces of evil and bandits alike, and didn't believe for a moment that Majandra was who she said she was.

It took a substantial amount of gold, and a bit of persuasive magic from Sharwyn, before the three were waved through the checkpoint and admitted into the district proper. Almost immediately Majandra halted their progress and gestured for silence.

"What is it?" Sharwyn asked after a moment, green eyes flicking about from shadow to shadow with sharp wariness. "Is something coming?"

"No," Majandra shook her head slowly. For a moment there, she thought she'd heard the sounds of battle coming from nearby, but it seemed her ears were playing tricks on her. "Let's move on." Slipping from shadow to shadow, the three moved steadily in a spread out formation that kept all angles of attack in sight; Majandra in the front as the stealthiest, and Boddyknock and Sharwyn bringing up the rear as long ranged fighters.

Boddyknock was bouncing along as usual, babbling under his breath about planes and pancakes, when he heard a slight intake of breath to his left. Before he could even say, "leaven bread", a gang of convicts came charging out of the surrounding alleyways screaming wild cries.

"Majandra!" The fey'ri halted at the sound of Sharwyn's faint cries behind her and immediately drew her weapons, every instinct screaming danger. "Help!"

_Looks like we have to save them, then._ Rekkei sighed regretfully, crimson blade pulsing once in Majandra's hand. _But afterwards, can we kill the gnome? _Majandra ignored the frequent request and stepped back into the shadows, fading into the darkness like a dapple skinned shade.

Keeping a hand to her blades, Majandra crept around the corner of an apartment complex and then froze, emitting a low growl at the sight awaiting her. Sharwyn and Boddyknock, both looking a lot worse for wear, were trapped with their backs against a wall by a group of armed thugs led by a half-orc of gigantic proportions.

"Weeel, weeel, weel," the orc said, leering at Sharwyn's well endowed chest as he spoke in terrible Common. "Lookee at the purty thing thas fallen into me territory! Me thinks fun is ta be had wif such a treasue!" he reached forward with a clawed hand and groped the bard roughly; ignoring the feeble blows she rained on his head as she struggled in his grip.

"Mmh mmph mmmmmph!" Boddyknock's voice was muffled by the hand around his mouth, both that and the whip tied about his wrists keeping him from casting spells in defense of both himself and the bard.

"Get your filthy hands off of me!" Sharwyn cried as she kicked one of the men holding her in the nether regions. "Don't you have any idea who I am? I am the daughter of-" SLAP! The orcs fist came across her flushed face, whipping her head to the side.

"No talking for you!" the bestial man held the dazed bard up by the throat as her knees buckled, chuckling with his men as they gazed at Sharwyn with predatory eyes.

Off to the side, Majandra's eyes had been steadily darkening in fury until she could barely see from the bloody veil covering her sight. Unbeknownst to her, the pupils of her eyes narrowed until they resembled those of a cat, and the outline of a pair of wings was becoming steadily more visible every second.

_No._ Majandra couldn't tell who's thought it was through the rage that had her shoulders shaking and her weapons held in a white knuckled grip, but found that she didn't particularly care either. _NO! She's MINE to do with as I please, and I won't allow those bastards to touch her! I'll kill them!_

The fey'ri warrior stepped out of the shadows behind the gang members and made her presence known with a throwing dagger that drilled into the forehead of the man holding Boddyknock like a hot knife into butter. (**A/N:** Sorry Hakubi, but I had to borrow Rei's blades for this scene!) For a moment, everyone stared in shock as the human slumped limply to the ground, freeing Boddyknock to squeak, "Majandra!"

The gang leader whirled around as the cloaked woman stepped forward, twin wakizashi shedding an eerie light about the narrow street, crimson fighting for dominance with cerulean and winning. "Who the hell ye be?" He snarled, tossing Sharwyn to the ground and drawing a huge war axe as he spoke. "Ye killed my man!"

"And I'd do it again, and again, and again," Majandra's voice was silky, more reminiscent of Rekkei's than her own. "It was a joy, really." Speaking of the demonic entity, the fey'ri could see her counterpart standing over the unconscious Sharwyn with a crooked grin gracing her lips.

_This show is yours, Maggie dear,_ She cooed, an evil glint in her eye. _I'll keep an eye on the prize._

"Grrr," the orc growled, "Get her!" the five remaining men pounded towards the stationary fey'ri standing half a block away, swinging their swords and maces wildly in anticipation of the kill.

Majandra waited until they were almost upon her before exploding into action, throwing another dagger into the throat of the foremost enemy, a halfling armed with a slingshot, and dancing to the side as weapons crashed through where she was standing. As their smallest companion crumpled to the ground, the other four quickly circled the fey'ri, eyes locked onto the seemingly unworried woman with feral grins twisting their faces.

_Now._ A voice whispered into her mind, and the deadly dance began. Closing her eyes, Majandra swayed back as an axe slashed at her head, turning the blow with little effort with the edge of Tekkei and letting the force of the strike throw her into a punishing spin kick. She felt the dwarf's neck snap beneath her boot, but ignored his lifeless body and threw herself to the side in a roll that carried her beneath the legs of a massive human man wielding a greatsword. Her blades flicked out to the sides mid roll, and she felt the tendons in his thighs snap like rubber bands.

"Gahh!" He screamed as his legs collapsed beneath him, rendering him useless to his companions. His cries were cut short as another throwing knife whistled through the darkness to silence him forever.

Suddenly aware that they were the last remaining fighters in what had been a group of five, the last two, a hulking half-orc and a weenie looking human shared a glance and came at the demonic woman from both sides. Majandra caught both blows with her wakizashi and then leapt straight up into the air. For a moment, she heard a slight flutter behind her back and felt herself hovering over their heads, safely out of reach of their dual ripostes.

"What the-" Their voices were cut off as one, Majandra's boots shattering their shoulder blades as she carried them to the ground with her. Her blades flashed once as she quickly severed their brainstems and ended their miserable lives.

Wordlessly, breaths steady, Majandra rose to her feet and turned towards the gang leader watching her with a shocked expression on his face and his weapon held in slack hands. Behind him, Boddyknock had managed to get his wrists unbound and was kneeling beside Sharwyn's still form, tiny hands moving to cast a healing spell. Rekkei still stood watch over their friends, a satisfied, bloodthirsty smile on her face as blood dripped from the weapon clasped in her hand.

_Magnificent!_ She breathed, grin widening as Majandra stalked forward, wings flaring out behind her creating the image of a dark, avenging angle come to collect her next victim. _Can't you feel it? The power rushing through your veins? The scent of terror threatening to make his heart explode? Why do you resist this so?_

Majandra halted four paces in front of the frightened half-orc, lips curling in a smirk. "I'll bet you wished you had stayed in your prison, don't you?" she asked softly, hands toying with Rekkei-maru. "Three square meals a day and a bunk to sleep in? Safe from the dark things that go bump in the night?" she stepped closer as she spoke, eyes locked onto his, until she could smell his rancid breath in the air.

"S-stay away from me, demon!" he stuttered out, cringing as the fey'ri's eyes narrowed a fraction and an annoyed expression flitted across her features. "Leave me alone!" he saw her eyes glance over her shoulder, and was about to turn as well, when a foot of steel erupted from his chest with a squelch. "Ugh." He groaned as he crashed to the ground, an enraged Sharwyn standing behind him with a double bladed sword clasped in both hands.

"That bastard!" she hissed, using the long weapon like a staff to hold herself up. "How DARE he touch me like that! And you!" she whirled on Majandra just as the fey'ri woman was about to lend a helping hand and slapped her across the face. "Where were you? I nearly got raped for crying out loud, and you took your sweet time in coming to my rescue!"

Majandra raised a hand and touched her cheek, hurt and confusion echoing in her eyes for a split second before they turned cold. "If you hadn't been so far behind, then we wouldn't have had to deal with them to begin with. Don't you understand the meaning of stealth? Your calls could have alerted who knows how many other thugs in this area!"

Sharwyn sniffed and walked off, Boddyknock heeling her like a faithful dog. "Come on, fey'ri! We haven't anymore time to waste feeding your bloodlust!"

_Now can I kill her?_ Rekkei asked as she came up beside a fuming Majandra. _I think she deserves it, and we can always find another way into the labs! The gnome could probably blast a way in for us._

"No, Rekkei," Majandra gritted out as she stalked after the bard and wizard. "You can't kill her. Yet. Do be a dear though and think up an alternative for me, will ya?"

_Sure thing…_ was the reply as the fey'ri faded back into the darkness, features reverted back to normal underneath her notice.

**A/N:** SO! Do you think I should stop here? It was a hard fight, but I've finally beaten my writer's block! Yes, I know, some of you out there are like "Days? I've had a block for MONTHS!" Well, just to give myself a break, I will put a little interval here before I start writing again. Don't worry, I'll post the next half in a couple hours!

**How Kaia Broke Her Block** by Kaia Moonchild

Hallo! This short little interval type thing features characters from Never Again, as well as a guest character from The Darkest of Nights by Faithless Shadow. I was terribly mad at my computer, and was attempting to crush it with my keyboard when this dialogue began flowing through my fingers. Ok, so it's really random, but I hope you enjoy!

Rekkei: That was quite the display of violence back there, Kaia. (Buffs fingernails) I knew you'd warm up to me in time.

Kaia: (shrugs) frustration does crazy things to people. Like, I just may have something HORRIBLE happen to you guys within the next couple of pages

Majandra/Rekkei/Tekkei: (blinks) WHAAAAAT?

Kaia: oops! Gotta dash then! (Scampers off)

Kyral: appears on scene where's that dumbass author? I want my chapter!

Majandra: uh, nowhere! ( --Wimp)

Kaerion: Greetings! (Bright smile) what do you fine ladies do around here? My name is Kaerion, and I-AHHHHH!

Kaia: (wipes off sword) HA! I did it! I finally killed Kaerion! (dances around body)

Kyral: hmph, you killed the wimpy paladin. Great... (deadpans)

Majandra: yay! (Big grin and peace sign) ya got the bastard!

Rekkei:... I wanted to kill him!

Kaia: Ah well! (Swings sword in a waaay cool pattern before sheathing it) aren't I entitled to killing people too?

Kyral: ... No.

Kaia: (starts crying) why do you guys have all the fun? Here I am, trying to figure out a way to make your lives miserable, and-AHHHH

All: (blink) where the hell did that come from?

Rekkei: (inspects body) yup, heart failure

Majandra: (crying into her hands) she was so young, so talented! Why do my friends have to die?

Kyral: look, do you want to die too? We just killed the only way I'm getting my bloody chapter, AGAIN, and I didn't get to do it! (Advances with dart in hand)

Rekkei: oy! Kill her and you kill me too!

Majandra: Rekkei! I knew you cared (hugs self)

Kyral: (blinks) you people are completely insane, you know that? (Perplexed glare)

Majandra: blame Kaia!

(Miles below earth, or perhaps even another plane, a dark presence observes the exchange and plots)

Kaia: Why am I always the one who gets killed? That poison stuff really sucks! (Glares up at the scene unfolding in the mortal realm)

Flame #1: You died of a heart attack this time, dearie. The gods felt that your evil deeds were due reckoning!

Flame #2: what, did you expect to get away with mass murder, torture, and defiling a paladin in the sacred temple of her god?

Kaia: (blinks) well, yeah!

Flame #3: ... you're really evil... (shudders)

Kaerion: oh! Kaia! What are you doing down here? (BIG smile)

Kaia: Kaerion... what the hell are you doing in Hell? You're a PALADIN for chrissakes! I made you irritatingly perfect! (Looks horrified)

Kaerion: (grins) well, the gods gave me the choice of becoming a celestial paladin and coming down here to keep you company. I chose my duty to you, my beautiful creator!

Kaia: you've got to be KIDDING ME! (Starts beating on the walls and shouting) HELP! MAJANDRA! REKKEI! ...KYRAL! YOU"VE GOTTA GET ME OUTTA HEEEEEEREEEE!

Kaerion: oh, that doesn't work. I had to do something really nasty in heaven to get sent down here.

Kaia: really? (Evil glint in eye) something nasty, you say?

Kaerion: (nods innocently) Uhhuh! You have to get their attention.

Kaia: (thinks for a moment) Kaerion?

Kaerion: hmm?

Kaia: (seductive grin) strip.

(Insert scene of Kaerion stripping to "I'm too sexy" and beginning to pole dance in his heart covered boxers)

Kaia: (tries hard not to throw up) Uh, good show Kaerion! Now, just hold still while I...

Kaerion: (nods) Kaia? What're you doing with that rope?

Kaia: (winces as her hand passes over the tent in Kaerion's boxers) tying you up! What does it look like?

Kaerion: I didn't know you liked it like that (leers)

Kaia: (piercing glare) I don't. You told me I had to get the gods attention, so I'm going to do it in the most confusing, nastiest possible way! Now, Flames, get your arses out here!

Flames: (bow wearily) yes, mistress of darkness?

Kaia: (cackles wickedly) #1, roast this man alive, but be a dear and do it slowly, kay? #2, find that old Ashley Simpson CD shudders and put "pieces of me" on repeat!

Kaerion: (howling in fear) No! No! Anything but that!

Kaia: (dark grin) #3, if you will, please remove that (gestures towards Kaerion's obvious discomfort in the nether regions) from my sight. Use whatever method you please, just make it painful!

(A few hours of the hideous torture pass before Kaerion dies. again.)

Kaia: laughing madly muahahahaha! Hey Tyr, you like that! You like that? Hahahahahaha. Whoa, (pauses and scratches head) I feel... light?

(Back on Toril)

Majandra: I am NOT a wimp! I'm emo, and dark, and a really good fighter! I'm also good with the ladies, so there! (Crosses arms and pouts)

Rekkei: hahaha you? Good with the ladies? Those're all MY moves, kiddo! As neutral girl, you got the NEUTRAL emotions! Passion ain't one of them!

Kyral: (dark muttering) why do I even hang out with these losers? Maybe if I killed them... but that would leave me with Kia and Peregrine... maybe later. Yes! I will drown them in their own blood and create a finger painted masterpiece with their entrails! Insane giggling (I do believe I've driven her stark, raving mad with constant exposure to Majandra and co. unless she already was!)

Kaia: (appears suddenly) huh? It worked!

All: blinks

Kyral: haven't I killed you enough to get you to stay there?

Majandra: Kaia! (Hugs)

Rekkei: how the hell did you get back here?

Kaia: (snarky smile) oh, I'm sure if you resurrect Kaerion, he'll let you know! Now, time to write! (Disappears)

Majandra: uh, what was that sexy smile for? Wait, she isn't like that, is she?

Kyral: I think we'd know by now. (Starts playing with an arrow)

Rekkei: (Green in face) no, guys. I think she did "something" with Kaerion...

All: ... EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

**Til Next Time!**


	11. Prisonbreak Pt 2

**A/N:** (Cracks knuckles) Alrighty then! I hope you got a kick out of my fight against The Block! Now, back to the story. You don't mind if I skip all the walking etc. to the lab, do you? (Waits a second) Nah didn't think so! Haha, i just realized how apt the chapter name actually is just as i'm posting this...

_**Peninsula District, Mage Labs…**_

**"**This is it?" Majandra asked skeptically, crossing her arms and leaning back against a wall opposite that which Sharwyn was standing. "I thought mages liked things flashy?" Sharwyn shot her a withering glance but refused to reply, choosing instead to devote her attention to the puzzling door.

"Magic, magic, magic," Boddyknock sang quietly to himself off to the side, apparently forgetting the gravity of the situation he and his companions were in. "Leaven bread, bread, bread…"

_And THAT is a perfect reason gnome's shouldn't be sorcerers._ Majandra thought sarcastically as she stood up straight and stretched. That fight earlier was still weighing on her mind; the way she and Rekkei had shared thoughts and feelings; how each blow seemed slower than the last until she could avoid them without effort; how here emotions, usually her guiding light during battle were strangely absent.

_Rekkei?_ She thought hesitantly, both hoping and fearing her other half would answer. She didn't even attempt to contact Tekkei anymore, knowing the good entity had been long since absorbed into her psyche due to the influence of the plague. She was still there, Majandra knew, but only present in the capacity of night light in her blade and conscience in her mind. _Rekkei?_ She called again. _Answer me!_

_Yes?_ Came the bored reply a moment later. Rekkei's avatar appeared on the wall beside Majandra, leaning back so she was in the same sullen looking position. The fey'ri had quickly gotten used to seeing Rekkei outside of her head, and was even beginning to appreciate her –or was it their? - sense of humor. _What, bored already? Poor Maggie-poo, need something to slay?_

_Shut up,_ Majandra cast a scathing glare at her demonic twin. _I just want to ask you a question._

_No killing then? Come on!_ Rekkei whined, wings and tail twitching with agitation._ Oh fine, ask your damn question._

_What was I like,_ Majandra began hesitantly, gaze fixed determinedly on the door Sharwyn was fiddling with. _Back before Father split us apart? I only remember being as I am now, nothing more._

There was a slight pause, and then, shocking both Rekkei and Majandra, a third twin, this one angelic, appeared on the wall beside them. Tekkei's blue eyes rose slowly, wearily, to meet those of her doubles. _We were happy._ Her voice was weak, so soft that Majandra was thankful for the telepathic link between them. _The darkness in us appeared sporadically, but always uncontrollably. Father would knock us unconscious in most cases, using his magic time after time to save us from ourselves. But his strength began to wane as his condition grew worse, and he no longer had the power to detain us whenever the demon broke free._

_And so,_ Rekkei picked up as Tekkei's weak voice trailed off and she brought a trembling hand to her forehead. _Father decided that splitting us into three entities would dispel the demon somewhat and loosen its hold._

_You mean you aren't the darkness he was trying to protect me –us? - from?_ Majandra demanded, shock warring with disbelief at what the Marus had told her. _Answer me! I have to know!_

"Majandra!" a rough hand shaking her shoulders brought the fey'ri out of the light trance she had fallen into. "Majandra, pay attention!"

"What is it?" Majandra snapped as her attacker faded into view. "What do you want, Sharwyn?"

The bard glared in response and pointed towards the door. "It's open."

"And?" Majandra arched an eyebrow skeptically; not quite understanding the merit of the statement after receiving nothing but frosty silence from the bard during the hour and a half it took to get to this point. "That's what doors do. What's your problem?"

"That is the problem!" Sharwyn snapped, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder irritably. "The password wasn't working because someone got here before us and didn't close the door all the way!"

"Are they still here?" Majandra set her hostility aside for a moment and split her attention between the indignant bard and straining her remaining senses as far as possible into the room in search of any hint of dark magic.

"I don't know! Why don't you-" unbeknownst to the two women, the third member of their party was inching steadily closer to the open doorway, mumbling under his breath a series of completely unpronounceable words and phrases.

_Gods, I wish that woman would bloody shut up!_ Majandra tuned out the bard and focused as hard as she could on the mage lab. _Now, where are you…_ her brow furrowed in concentration as she fought through decades' worth of magical residue for the familiar taste of the Wailing Death. As her mind touched and discarded the debris of a thousand experiments, she began to get that sinking feeling that she was being watched.

"What are you doing?" Sharwyn demanded, loud voice shattering all remaining vestiges of Majandra's concentration just as she found what she was looking for.

"There's a desk in the furthest room to the back. What we're looking for is in there." Majandra managed to choke out as a coughing fit, possibly the worst as of yet, fell over her. Gasping for breath, she supported herself against the wall as her body shook with the force of the coughs exploding from her chest. Finally, the fit subsided.

_This is getting ridiculous,_ Rekkei muttered darkly.

_Just means I'll have to hurry, and that Kaerion better do his job right._ Majandra replied as she waved off Sharwyn and downed half a healing potion to soothe her throat.

"If you're ready?" Sharwyn asked.

As Majandra nodded confirmation, Boddyknock took off without warning, scooting behind Sharwyn and dashing straight into the dimly lit lab squealing, "magiiiiic!" The two girls could hear him rustling about in spell books and scrolls, and put aside their mutual dislike to share a long suffering glance. With a dual sigh, the women entered the foyer and stared down the long hallway before them in search of the gnome.

"Well," Majandra bowed sarcastically to the redhead bard. "Ladies first then." Sharwyn responded with a sharp sniff and stalked off, boots clicking rapidly on the marble floor.

Suddenly, darkness flooded the hallway they were standing in, and an eerie silence settled around them. A loud, terrified shriek shattered the silence and then was abruptly cut off. "Boddyknock!" Sharwyn cried, throwing caution to the winds and sprinting blind into the next area.

_Idiots!_ Majandra and Rekkei screamed in her head as she took off after the stupid woman. _Do they WANT to get killed that badly?_

_You shoulda just let me do it._ Rekkei remarked as she matched Majandra's pace and half-flew beside her. _It would've been more fun than chasing them around like bloody chickens!_

_ You're probably right,_ Majandra replied as she palmed two throwing daggers and slowed her steps to a stealthy pace. Up ahead the corridor widened out into a wide-open room. Even from this far back, Majandra could see flashes of magical energy flaring up and then dying down, lighting up the hallway somewhat.

When she reached the room, the pure chaos of the scene had her questioning her already doubtful sanity. Sprawled at an awkward angle in one corner was Boddyknock's broken body (**A/N:** muahahahahaha I killed Boddyknock! Lol that sentence is funny, alliterated and all…shrugs), burns and slashes mutilating his limbs as though he'd walked into a closet full of hot razors. Kneeling next to him was a rather stunned Sharwyn, a piece of paper clenched in her fist as she shook from either anger or sorrow.

_If only that were the worst of it,_ Majandra thought wryly as the conflict spanning the centre of the room caught her attention. An epic battle was taking place in front of her, the combatants a giant grey slaad bedecked in spines and spikes all over his body, and a lightly armed cleric expertly wielding a staff.

"I won't let you harm any more people, Chorwal!" She cried as she ducked a huge sweep of the slaadi's claws. "This madness has gone on long enough! Return to your hell and plague some of your own kind!"

The slaad growled in reply and held his hands out. Energy began gathering between his fingers, growing larger and larger until the crimson ball illuminated every corner of the room. "Die!" he roared, casting the missile away from his body and towards, not the cleric, but Sharwyn's unsuspecting form.

"Sharwyn!" Majandra instinctively stepped forward, but she knew she was too far away to come to the bard's aid. The cleric's eyes locked with the fey'ri's for a split second -what passed between them remaining forever unknown- and then sprinted off in Sharwyn's direction.

The haste spell enhancing her speed made her fast enough to out pace the energy beam and throw herself in front of Sharwyn and Boddyknock moments before the blast struck. All three were thrown against the wall from the magnitude of the spell, the staff bearing cleric screaming in pain before collapsing onto Sharwyn's back, shielding them from rubble falling from the wall.

All of this happened in a split second, and, before Majandra could react, the slaad's tail walloped her in the gut, forcefully propelling her through a pair of lab tables and into a wall. "Majandra!" Sharwyn cried, trying to rouse the dazed fey'ri as the demon stomped closer and closer to where she had fallen. "You've got to get out of there! Get up!" Majandra moaned and then yelped as a clawed hand closed around her waist, squeezing painfully as it lifted her off the ground.

"Well, well, well." A wall of fetid breath washed over Majandra's face, causing her to gag as she glared up into the ugly face of her captor. "If it isn't Mistress Indara's whelp! She'll be so happy to see how much her little girl has grown."

"What're you talking about?" Majandra snarled as she fought to free herself from Chorwal's heavy grasp. "I left that bitch in Sigil centuries ago!"

Meanwhile, Sharwyn had circled the escalating drama towards a desk set against the far wall of the lab. With a quick twirl of her lock picks, the drawer popped open, revealing a single piece of parchment with a string of incomprehensible writing scrawled across it. _This has to be it!_ The bard thought as she quickly pocketed the document. _This is no mortal language, and I can only think of one woman who might know what it means!_

Quietly, Sharwyn snuck back to the cleric's side and gently turned the woman onto her back. The woman's helm had been blown off from the force of the magical attack, revealing a gaunt faced woman with shoulder length brown hair and the slightly pointed ears that bespoke of elven heritage. She was a pretty thing, actually, but the kind that stemmed from her personality more so than physical features.

Just as Sharwyn was about to attempt a healing spell, the woman groaned and clutched her head. "Ugh, and THAT'S why I hate slaadi," she grumbled under her breath as she patted blindly about for her staff. "Bloody things and their bloody negative magic!" her eyes opened, revealing hazel green eyes that shone with intelligence and laughter. "You must be the woman I saved! Nice to meet you, I'm Saria Cloudwalker."

"Uh, Sharwyn." The bard replied dumbly, put out a bit by the cheeriness of this cleric in the face of danger. "Wait, you're a cleric?"

"Yes," Saria drawled, hissing as she felt the large burn splashed across her back. "How'd ya know? It was the staff, wasn't it?"

"Be serious for a moment!" Sharwyn glared at the smiling half-elf and pointed a finger at Boddyknock. "Tell me you can heal him!"

"Well," Saria replied, forehead furrowed in thought as she inspected the dead gnome. "I guess I could attempt resurrecting him, but it'll take more energy than I have right now to do both that AND heal his wounds."

"Just do something!" Sharwyn grasped the woman by the collar and stared deep into her glimmering eyes. "Or gods help you, I'll…"

Across the room, Majandra and Chorwal were locked in a heated argument, one that probably looked rather comical to a person with the right kind of humor. Held in the grasp of a slaad many times her side, the tiny in comparison fey'ri gave as good as she got. The next words out of Chorwal's mouth, however, made all thoughts of retribution fly from Majandra's head.

"Indara is in Neverwinter?" Majandra exclaimed. "Why? For what purpose did she follow me here?

"Not everything is about you, half-breed," the slaad sneered in reply. "This time, the Mistress has a terrible new ally, one who will aid us in bringing ruin to this world once and for all!" His lizard like tongue flickered out and licked Majandra, traveling from the dip in her neck to the tips of her pointed ears. She shuddered and twisted away, the unwanted contact bringing back horrible memories of the past. "But wait," Chorwal lowered his head so he was hissing directly in the fey'ri's face. "You haven't even heard the best part yet! I heard what a little whore you were, even as a child, and requested that I be the one to return you to the fold. You are mine, child of Indara!"

"No!" Majandra felt her fury burning hotter and hotter as Chorwal spoke, her eyes a deeper crimson than ever before. "I won't let you!" The slaad just laughed in response, running a clawed hand over her chest and body in a mockery of a caress that served to fuel her rage into an even tighter coil.

Just as she felt her body might explode from the rising demonic power burning like acid through her veins, Rekkei whispered in the back of her mind. _Time for me to come out and play demon. _She murmured, voice a seductive purr. _Good night, Majandra…_

_No!_ Majandra shouted, _No! Rekkei, don't! Rekkei!_ But it was too late. She felt her senses dimming, vision tunneling until she lost consciousness altogether.

Chorwal could feel the power rising in his captive, but could do little more than growl pathetically as the fey'ri in his hands began transforming.

A brisk whirlpool of energy exploded into being around a screaming Majandra, crimson fire burning within and without in complex symbols and patterns that any journeyman mage would recognize as a quasi-summoning spell. A demonic howl rose from her lips as the horns on her head curved back until the tips rested against her shoulders, razor sharp points puncturing the cloth and skin below until a steady stream of blood flowed down her back. Her tail tip shed it's slightly furry end and erupted into a scythe like blade, the convulsions her body was going through flaying the slaad's fingers until strips of flesh hung off the bone.

Chorwal's grip didn't loosen on the girl until two pitch black bird wings burst from Majandra's back with a snap and a shriek of pain. "W-what?" he stuttered as Majandra's eyes rose slowly, blood red cat's eyes glittering through her pitch black bangs. "What's going on? Y-you shouldn't be able to do this!"

"Majandra isn't in right now," Rekkei licked the sharp edge of her former prison seductively, eyes glimmering with cold amusement. "Would you like to play?" Before Chorwal could even attempt a response, Rekkei had slipped out of his grip with a graceful back flip. (**A/N:** whoa! That totally rhymed! and I did it without trying too. -Brushes shoulder off- oops! Back to the fic then…) She spun in the air just before reaching the ground, a handful of throwing knives flying from her fingers to imbed themselves in the slaad's tough skin.

"Planning on helping, bard?" the fey'ri hissed as she landed beside a stunned Sharwyn. "Or do I have to hurt you as well? Don't forget, you still owe me for that slap!"

"Uh, yeah!" Sharwyn shrank back until she was basically hiding behind the now alert cleric. "As you say, Majandra!" her fingers flew into the motions of Boddyknock's favorite spell, one of the few offensive magics she was familiar with. Magic missiles flew from her hands to strike the charging demon, stunning him in place as he tried to fight off the tiny irritants with idle slashes of his claws.

"And you," Rekkei turned her attention on the grim looking cleric staring at her. "As much as it pains me to say it, heal the gnome and keep out of my way!" just as she finished speaking, a piece of rubble came hurtling at the pair. Rekkei pushed the cleric roughly and then threw herself backwards, hissing as a jagged edge on the projectile clipped her side and sent her tumbling.

Sharwyn, seeing the fey'ri down for the moment, decided that the time had come for her to do something exceedingly stupid. "Hey you!" she shouted to the raging slaad as she came out of her hiding place. "Ugly! I want to have a word with you!"

Chorwal snorted contemptuously at the bard and raised a clawed hand. "This farce has gone on long enough," Sharwyn's spell shorted out abruptly; balls turning blood red as the slaad made her missiles his own. "Time to die, human!"

Just as he sent the missiles towards the defenseless bard, there was a low growl and a flutter of wings from behind his back. "Looks like playtime is over, big boy, and I win the game…" he felt a sharp pain in his spine, and then felt a lull come over his muscles, body slumping gently to the floor with a low moan. The last sight Chorwal saw of the mortal plane was a playful leer from Rekkei as she licked the blood from her blades, and then there was nothing.

"Whew!" Sharwyn broke the silence with a long, drawn out sigh of relief, moving from the centre of the room to where she'd left Saria with Boddyknock. "That was close! How's it coming, Saria?"

"See for yourself," the half-elf replied, waving the bard over to see an alive, if unconscious Boddyknock. "He'll be ok once we get him proper medical attention. I'm afraid I'm all out spells, thanks to that lump of flesh over there!" she cocked her head in the direction of Chorwal's body.

"Thank goodness!" Sharwyn exclaimed, holding out the piece of paper she'd taken from the gnome. "He finally found the recipe to his leaven bread, and I wouldn't want him to miss enjoy-"

"Shut up." Rekkei growled. Her head was hung low, hiding her eyes, and her shoulders were shaking with something suspiciously close to rage. "I don't want to hear another word out of you, bard, unless it's screams!" She leapt across the room, and, in the blink of an eye, had the squirming bard's head grasped in her hands. "Now, Sharwyn," she purred, tongue flicking the bard's earlobe, eliciting a new set of shudders. "You've been rather mean lately, and Majandra and I have both agreed that you should be punished for it. Oh don't worry," she pressed a teasing kiss against the bard's cheek as she felt the woman freeze, "I won't kill you; Majandra won't let me. Rather," she pulled back so she was staring deep into Sharwyn's fear filled eyes, relaxing her mind as she accessed one of her favorite abilities. Oh, how _good_ it felt to finally be free! "I'm going to make the next couple of months of your life a living hell!"

The fey'ri's cat's eyes widened, and Sharwyn began hearing a voice whispering to her in her mind. _Hmm,_ she twitched in discomfort as Majandra began rifling through her memories, yet was unable to do anymore due to the hypnotizing influence of the fey'ri's eyes. _My, my, Sharwyn. You've got quite the organized brain here, don't you? Must be all that memorizing you have to do to be a bard, eh? Well, let's get down to it, shall we?_

Sharwyn moaned as the slight discomfort intensified until it felt as though Majandra was attempting a field amputation without a pitcher of whiskey for her patient. "Stop," she moaned, the intended scream coming out as a whisper. "Please, stop! I'm sorry!"

The voice laughed cruelly, saying, _I could hear the sincerity in that one, and I must say that I'm impressed. Unfortunately, what would've worked on Majandra is useless against me! Now, let me see. What is your greatest fear?_

"N-nothing!" Sharwyn stuttered, but the moment she said it, an image of her phobia flashed in Rekkei's mind.

_Oh, I see,_ The demon replied thoughtfully, _the big city, well-traveled bard girl is afraid of trees? Does this scare you?_ Sharwyn's screams rang loud and long as Rekkei projected images of the forest of Tethyr, one of the largest in all Faerûn. The fey'ri's eyes widened, if possible, even more, and Sharwyn heard her whispering the words of a spell. _There. _She said at last. _You'll be seeing that wonderful example of nature nonstop for the next, oh, I don't know, five months?_ The rest was a jumble of psychotic laughter that made Sharwyn's head ring

Before she could get into _real_ terrifying things, such as the Wooded Plane or even the Nurikabe of her childhood, Rekkei felt a hand grasp her shoulder tightly. "I'm afraid this is where your fun stops, demon!" Saria's almond shaped eyes glowed with eldritch light as she spoke, frightening Rekkei as she felt a familiar presence stirring in the back of her mind.

"Hey! Leave me alone if you know what's good for you, cleric!" she tried to wrench free of the cleric's iron grip and failed miserably, eyes wide with shock. "You don't have the right to do this!"

"No, but it is the right thing to do." The half-elf replied firmly. The glow intensified until Rekkei felt the light bathing her body flowing through her bloodstream as well, calming the fury that had allowed her to seize control.

"No!" she howled as she felt her control slipping. "I won't go back there! Grrr, no!" _Oh, poor Rekkei._ Majandra's voice was angry, understandably enough, but also surprisingly indulgent for a woman who's body had been snatched by her "evil twin". _Little girl, do you need a nap? No one appreciates your tantrums!_

Rekkei tried to reply, but found her vocal cords wouldn't respond to her orders. _Well, damn._ She muttered from her usual place in Majandra's head. _Just when the real fun was about to start…_ As her voice trailed away, so did the recent transformations Majandra's body had gone through. Her wings faded away like wisps of smoke, her horns receded with a snick much like her blades made when she pulled them from their sheaths, and her tail lost its razor sharpness in favor of a tuft of black fur. Her eyes, however, retained the crimson, oval slits instead of returning to the familiar golden orbs. _Oh well,_ she sighed, already missing the comforts and advantages of her demonic body. _There's always next time._

Majandra ignored her worser half's dark mutterings and instead turned her attention to the cleric swaying like a leaf in a breeze before her. "Saria, right?" she asked. "Thanks for bringing me back, or whatever the hell that was."

"No problem!" Saria replied brightly, smile slightly off kilter from fatigue. "It was all in a days wo-YAWN-rk." She covered her mouth as another jaw cracking yawn escaped her lips. "If you don't mind," she continued, green eyes closing as she spoke, "I think I'll take a short nap."

Before Majandra could even form a response to the brunette whirlwind's words, the cleric hit the ground with a crash, light snores punctuating the silence. "Well," the fey'ri said aloud, rather nonplussed about the events of the past hour. She glanced about her in bemusement, taking in the completely wrecked lab with something of a smile.

A hardly breathing Boddyknock lay on the ground a few paces away from a gently rocking Sharwyn. The woman was muttering non-stop in fear as she twitched, eyes rolling wildly in all directions at what Majandra could only guess was one of the most frightening forests she'd ever seen or heard of in her life. Clasped in her hand, the fey'ri noticed, was a piece of parchment paper with scrawling that she recognized as the written form of infernal, the language of demons and devils alike, as well as Planes travelers.

"Just what I was looking for," Majandra muttered as she bent carefully over the terrified bard, careful not to touch the woman in any fashion. "Jeeze Rekkei," she continued speaking aloud, if only to keep the silence at bay. "I know she deserves it, but did you have to scare her that badly?"

_In a word?_ Rekkei snickered. _Yes._

"Well and fine for you," Majandra muttered as she pocketed the paper after a quick scan. She'd reread it later and hope to the gods her suspicions were incorrect later. "You don't have to deal with her, and what ever Aribeth says about it!"

_Yeah, yeah._ Rekkei snorted. She appeared a moment later standing next to the quivering bard, an unfriendly smirk twisting her lips. _Can we leave now? I can't wait to see what happens when the bard starts receiving get-well flowers!_

Majandra just shook her head at the remark, half suppressing her own smirk at the notion, and pushed her friends close enough that they were all touching. "Next stop," she reached into one of the many pockets in her cloak and pulled out a tiny pebble of a stone. "Halls of Justice." She activated the stone with a thought, and the four of them disappeared from the room with a flash, hurtling through space and time to the exit portal in the temple of Tyr.

As soon as it was certain no one was around, the tiny winged lizard creature crept out of its hiding place in the cracks of the ceiling. It surveyed the damage to the room, pupil less eyes making it a perfect spy for the masters using it's orbs as windows to a world where they were very unwelcome. A moment later, the spying eye fluttered out of an open window high up in the ceiling, heading east to the Blacklake District.

**A/N:** Wow, sorry that took so long! A couple unexpected events happened to me this week, being drafted into the field hockey team (I made varsity! –Dances-) being one, and an impromptu birthday party thrown by my friends another. Anyways, this chapter gave me LOTS of problems towards the end, so the odds of me redoing maybe the last page or so at some point are reasonably high. Oh, and i will be at the beach for the next week, so don't even THINK of expecting something for maybe two or three times that amount of time! (i know, i'm sad too...) Thanks for reading, and I hope you review!

-Kaia


	12. Rewrite Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** This counts for the whole rest of the fic, as I don't feel like writing these headings anymore: I DON'T OWN FORGOTTEN REALMS. I only own those characters that obviously belong to me, the actual CDs containing the OC and expansions, and the premise for the storyline.

**Author's Note: **Alright, here's the deal. I know you were probably looking forward to a new chapter (as was I, really), but i've decided that I'm going to rewrite the previous chapters before I go on. There's a lot I want to change, and so, so no one is confused, i'm going to put the rewritten chapters at the end until I've gotten all the way up to chapter eleven. At that point, depending on how many positive reviews support the newer version, I'll replace the first eleven chapters with the newer ones.

Thanks!

Kaia Moonchild

_**Prologue…**_

_The tale I'm about to recount, dear reader, is one not for the faint of heart, or those of feeble or small mind. It's been centuries, eons, ages, lifetimes since the events that took place in and around the city of Neverwinter; events in which I played a great, and yet overlooked and underappreciated role beside the celebrated heroes of that age, Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, Aarin Gend the Spymaster, Paladin of Lathander Kaerion Galadorn, and Lord Nasher Alagondar, Ruler of Neverwinter. _

_And yet, listener, I do not begrudge my former companions their glory in the tales and legends spun by bards and recorded by lore masters. No, they can keep their places of honor in the annals of history; I have no desire nor need to join them. The day my heart died, froze in my chest for what I felt would be an eternity, was the day I knew I would step back from the limelight._

_And yet, that is neither here nor there. Are you ready to hear my tale, inquisitive soul? Are you ready to learn the true fate of the Ever Summer, Never Winter, city of the North? To learn of the single event that's effects spiraled onwards for centuries? Well then, by all means, pour yourself a tankard of ale and settle yourself to hear the story of the Fall of Neverwinter… (Yes, Neverwinter falls )_

_**Lion's Head Inn, Twenty-Four Leagues from Neverwinter**_

Lying upon one of the more well traveled roadways in Faerûn is an invitation to the weird, the odd, and the completely random, as most of the more experienced innkeepers know. Simply having an inn on the wayside runs the risk strange customers, something that Brent Nalan, Innkeeper of the Lion's Head, had never actually experienced himself. Well, as they say, there's always a first time for everything…

**_Crash!_** The low undertone of conversation in the common room cut off abruptly as the oaken door swung open under the gale force winds raging outside. A heavily cloaked figure staggered into the room, dripping wet from the rains.

"Excuse me!" the portly (I know, innkeepers can be thin too, just not in forgotten realms shrug) innkeeper came out from behind his lectern, idly wiping an empty glass with his spotless apron. "Yer dripping' all over my floors, sir! Here, let me take yer coat and sit ye down by the fire, then."

"Don't touch me." The ears of the men sitting at their tables perked up at the sound of the distinctly feminine voice emitted from beneath the deep hood, while their counterparts' eyes narrowed in distrust.

"Eh, sorry abou' that, miss," the innkeeper stuttered, bowing jerkily as the woman swept past him with eerie grace. "Here," he hurried past her and pulled a sturdy chair closer to the roaring fireplace at the back of the room. "Have a seat, ma'am."

"Thank you." Her voice was low and throaty, almost as if from disuse or past injury. A pale, thin hand emerged from the veritable cocoon of cloth to press a heavy gold coin into his pudgy hand. "A meal," she continued, "and some warm mead, if you will."

"Of course," the man bowed again and scurried away, answering the maids' questioning glances with a confused one of his own. Just who was this woman!

The woman in question quietly thanked the serving girl who promptly delivered a steaming plate of meat and potatoes to the tiny table by her side, and then took a deep draught of mead.

_Alcohol and meat? My, my, aren't we being adventurous. I'm looking forward to a repeat of last time, you know. All that bloodshed was….delightful._ A passing cleaning girl jumped and squeaked as the mysterious woman uttered an audible, animalistic growl.

"Shut up," she hissed aloud, knuckles whitening as her grip tightened around the tankard of sharp liquid. "I don't have to listen to you anymore, not since we left Sigil, so let me be!" she defiantly tossed back another gulp of mead, enjoying the burning sensation as the liquid streamed down her throat to warm her body.

_You thought I'd suddenly disappear upon arrival in the Prime Material Plane?_ The voice scoffed, sending another flash of pain through her head. _Foolish girl, you know you'll never be able to get rid of me or what I represent! The chaos and bloodshed of the battlefield calls out to your soul, child of darkness! You know it to be true…_

"Shut up," she muttered again, weaker this time. "Please, just leave me alone!" The voice in her head, once a silent companion, had haunted her thoughts and dreams ever since she set foot up Toril's soil, a constant commentator on everything she encountered.

All around her, curious and distrustful customers were whispering and speculating about the woman seemingly talking to herself as she stared into her blurred reflection in a tankard. One man, surely deep into his cups, decided he was brave enough to approach the cloaked woman, and most likely seduce her into his bed. Such, is drunken logic…

The voice had actually stopped upon her last request, something the woman was ever grateful for as she moved to start her still-warm meal. Wrinkling her nose at the slices of formerly alive animal, the woman moved them to the far side of her plate and set upon the steaming potatoes covered in cheese and spices.

As she chewed, she eyed the meat seemingly mocking her from the side of the plate. Ever since "That", she hadn't so much as touched a piece of meat. Just the smell of it caused her stomach to turn, yet she didn't care enough to call one of those skittish maids over to remove the offending entrees.

Pain flared in her head as the voice made another appearance, whispering a stream of pure violence that made her eyes burn to think about. _Oh look,_ it continued, breaking off its detailed recitation of one of her darker moments to comment about the complete silence in the common room. _Seems as though the fun is about to start. Don't disappoint me, girl…_

"'Scuse me, Miss," a heavy, uncoordinated hand flopped down on her shoulder, causing her arm to jerk and send mead seeping down her robes. "Oh, eheh, sorry 'bout tha'. I'm Toram Nils, Miller by occupation and lover by vocation." He grinned widely as he bent over where he assumed her face would be. "Tonight would be yer lucky night, m'gal!"

There was an intense hush as the woman turned her head to him and said in a cold voice. "Go away."

The man's friends at the bar roared in laughter at the blunt rejection, spurring their fellow on with catcalls and crude jokes concerning his manhood. "Oi," he ran around so he was in front of her view of the fire and placed his hands on her upper arms. "That's not the answer I was lookin' for, lassie. Let's try this again. Me and you, my room, now." Smirking, he began to rise with her still in his grasp.

"Don't. Touch. Me." The woman growled as she flexed, shocking the man as she broke free of his grip and stood at her full height, a good three inches taller than his own. He quailed as, deep within her hood, a pair of crimson orbs began to burn in anger, piercing his heart with fear.

"Come on boys!" he shouted as he attempted to grab her again. "She's but one woman! We can take care of her together and split her all ways!"

The woman stiffened, though whether in fear or anger the men will never know, as he made his plans perfectly clear with the lecherous expression on his pock marked face. Dark memories of the past surged to the fore; sparking a rage greater than anything the aged common room had ever seen.

As Toram set his hands upon her again, her restraint broke, and a feral roar boiled up from within. She felt a presence at her back and immediately lashed out with a clawed fist, catching the man behind her directly in the chest and sending him flying backwards into a table full of people. She was caught unawares by a man coming up on her left, staggering to the side from the blow to her head.

_Where is the innkeeper?_ She thought as she ducked another wild blow from a drunkard. _Why isn't anyone aiding me? I could be raped by these men -indeed that is their intent!- and no one wishes to lend a hand?_ She landed a punishing kick below the waist to her current enemy, sending him to the ground with a girlish squeak. _Was I wrong to journey here? Would it have been better to simply stay where I was?_ She felt more than saw the knife flash towards her side, but couldn't engage the armed man in time to deflect the strike. Pain exploded in her side, and she swayed a bit before being pushed up against the wall by Toram.

"Looks like yer not so tough now, missie!" he snarled as his friends took her from his hands and held her up, using his left hand to unbuckle his belt. "Yer gonna like this, and ye ain't gonna complain, got it!"

_No, no, no, no, no, NO!_ She screamed in her head as she struggled weakly to free herself. Where were her powers, her abilities, her wings? Why had they disappeared upon arrival in Faerûn?

_Hmm,_ the voice in her head said thoughtfully, ignoring her frantic pleas for help as a rough, paw-like hand fiddled with the catch to her pants. _This predicament you've gotten yourself into looks rather familiar, don't you think? Whatever shall you do?_

"Help!" she whispered weakly, fighting against the grips on her arms as Toram dropped her pants and leaned into her. "Please, Rekkei, help me!"

_Very well, Majandra. Very well._ And the world behind her eyes burst into crimson flames.

Toram was seconds away from entering his new conquest when he felt a hand gently grip his member. "Here," the woman murmured, voice low with husky warmth. "Let me."

"Yeah, now that's what I'm talking about!" he groaned as he felt her stroke him gently. "Come on, baby, lemme in!"

In a split second, the sensation changed from pleasure to pain, and Toram could only whimper as she brought him up to face her. "You made the gravest mistake of your life, human," She crooned in a feathery voice, tightening her grip. "Now, you shall pay threefold for it!" in a quick movement, the woman ripped the offending member clear off and shoved it down the man's throat, freeing herself from his shocked companions by tearing their arms from their sockets and crushing their windpipes all in one motion. The heavy cloak shielding her from sight seemingly melted from her body, revealing a being no one in the room had ever hoped to see.

"W-what are you?" Brent Nalan demanded weakly at the woman standing before him, eyes shielded by a fall of blue-black hair that ended at her waist. Embedded in that thick hair, to all's surprise, were a set of black, twisted horns. Black leather and chains covered the pale woman's lithe body, offering protection and cover from weapons and yet little from the elements. A tail swayed sensuously around her calves, razor sharp tip scratching on the floor with a metallic sound, and tiny, claws stained red already with blood protruded from her first set of knuckles. Strapped to her waist were two blades, both eastern by origin, and across her back was what appeared to be a pole arm, each blade flickering with it's own eerie magical energy.

She raised her face, and the innkeeper felt his heart die in his chest from the features of the cruel beauty before him. Her heritage was elven down to the pointed ears emerging from her locks, yet it was her eyes that sapped the courage from the man. Crimson cat's-eyes filled with anger and hate glared pure death in his direction, and it was all he could do not to soil himself.

Giggling madly inside at the cliché response, the woman displayed her set of fangs in an insane grin and replied, "Your worst nightmare." And so the screams began in earnest.

**THIS IS A BORDER THIS IS A BORDER THIS IS A BORDER THIS IS A**

When Majandra came to, she was lying in a lake of blood, nearly smothered by the rain soaked garment shielding her from the elements. Groaning in pain, she pulled herself to her feet, hand clasped tightly over her wound, and took a look at the nightmare she'd woken up in.

Broken, bleeding bodies lay scattered haphazardly amongst the burned wreckage of the Lion's Head Inn, the driving rains and winds giving them the semblance of life as hair and eyelids twitched in the breeze. The smell of burning meat suffused the air, and it was all she could do not to vomit up her dinner of not an hour past.

"Rekkei," she whispered aloud, golden eyes wide in horror at the sight of so much death. "What- why did you do this?" she was covered head to toe in blood, only a portion of which actually her own.

_You asked for my aid knowing full well what it entails, half-breed._ Rekkei's voice was laced with scorn, dark joy, and a kind of insanity that Majandra was only too accustomed to. _What did you think I would do to those bastards, send them home with a spanking? No, they needed to learn a lesson for touching us!_

"But," Majandra paused and shook her head. "No matter," ignoring the sharp pain in her side, she took one, and then another unsteady step in the direction of the stables that had been at the back of the end. Surely Rekkei hadn't burned that as well, and there would be at least one horse remaining!

It appeared the gods were smiling down on Majandra, or at least ignoring her for the moment, because indeed there was a sturdy black still in his stall. "Hello, beautiful," She murmured under her breath as she hobbled towards the stallion, careful to keep downwind of his sensitive nose. "I wish you no harm," she paused to choose a name. "Vanwa." Vanwa meant 'lost' in the tongue of her father, and accurately reflected how she was feeling now.

She gritted her teeth against the pain as she lifted a set of tack from the wall and hoisted it over Vanwa's broad back, breath hissing out as she bent over to tighten the catches on his belly. She took a moment to steady herself, and then swung onto the stallions back. A scream tore from her throat as her tender wound broke open again, causing her to sway forward to lean against Vanwa's strong neck.

"Neverwinter." She mumbled, kicking Vanwa out of the stables and into the night as her vision darkened. "Take me to Neverwinter."

_**Halls of Justice, Temple of Tyr**_

In the highest tower in the temple of Tyr, a single light burned long into the night. Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande, Lady Paladin of Tyr, sat at a desk surrounded by balls of crumpled paper, pausing in her writing once more to crumple up her current disaster and hurl it against the mirror before her. She couldn't concentrate; even this high up, the screams of the dying reached her sensitive elven ears.

"I need to take better care of myself," she murmured aloud as she gazed at her reflection. She hadn't slept soundly, or even more than 16 hours a week, since receiving reports of the plague that wracked her beloved city. Her auburn hair hung loosely around her shoulders, scraggly and in serious need of brushing before her expected appearance at dawn. Her eyes, a sharp green, had lost all their spark, resting in the shadowed hollows of her face. Even her sharply pointed ears appeared to wilt a little!

With a sigh, Aribeth took out a new sheet of parchment and set her quill to the top. Tomorrow was the grand opening of the Neverwinter Academy for Adventurers. She had been the one to suggest the school to Lord Nasher, and so it was upon her that the success of the venture relied.

She had already recruited teachers, and many men and women from the city and surrounding countryside had flooded in to join the ranks, yet she knew that one more person was required to make it a success. A leader was needed. Someone who could lead the students, none of which were real fighters by trade, and be an example of all they were trying to accomplish. She needed a hero, and she knew exactly who would be able to carry out his duties to the greatest extent of his abilities.

_My Lord Kaerion Galadorn,_ she paused, carefully considering how she would proceed. She had decided against using the formal template for such an important letter, but how informal was too informal? _I do not know if you have received news of Neverwinter's plight wherever you are, but I must inform you that we are nearly at our last gasps. Why do I tell you this, you wonder? It was my honor to attend your knighting ceremony five years ago in Silverymooon, and you were the first person that came to mind for this request. An Academy of Adventurers has been created here in Neverwinter in hopes that a person will come that will be able to aid us in curing this plague and reviving our dying city. Will you be this person, master knight? Will you be our hero? If you choose to aid us, come with all haste to the city. We have been quarantined, but showing this letter of invitation will get you through the gates. Please, Kaerion,_ Aribeth stopped, staring at what she'd just written. She'd never thought it would ever come to this, begging foreign paladins, not even those of Tyr, for help. Another sigh, and she quickly finished up the note, sealing it in an envelope with her seal waxed to the side.

Just as she was about to summon one of the messenger birds to her office, someone knocked on the oaken door. "Come in!" she called, hiding the letter underneath some books. She didn't know why she felt the need to hide, but she knew something more than the plague was wrong with Neverwinter.

"What are you doing still awake, my love?" her fiancé, Fenthick Moss, Cleric of Tyr, entered the door with his usual quiet manner, calming her racing heart and bringing a bit of warmth back into her eyes.

"Writing letters," Aribeth smiled and rose, crossing the room to fall into the lean elf's open arms. She felt him nuzzle her head lightly, and tilted her head back for a kiss. Instead of her lips, Fenthick kissed her cheek and then pulled back a bit.

"I think I deserve something better than that!" Aribeth said coyly, pulling the man closer to her even as sorrow and confusion wracked her heart.

_Why is he like this?_ She thought as they shared another cold kiss. Something had changed in their relationship at the onset of the plague, and Fenthick was no longer as warm or loving as he had been before. Oh, she knew he loved her as much as she loved him, but there was a measure of resistance in his actions whenever they were together, almost as if making love to her were a chore or duty.

When they broke off, Fenthick released her from his arms and immediately bent down to recover one of the paper balls rolling on the floor, unraveling it and reading it without a word. "Kaerion Galadorn?" his eyebrows rose upon reading the name. "Isn't that the lad who gained his knighthood at eighteen? Why would he be an asset ot your academy?"

Aribeth winced inwardly at the hint of scorn she heard in his voice when he mentioned the school. "I believe he has what it takes to be a true hero," she replied finally, crossing her arms and moving back to gain more room. All of a sudden, she really didn't feel like being near her fiancé. "He'll inspire the other students without arrogantly lording over them, help them without embarrassing them, and lead them honorably."

"Sounds like you want him more as a teacher than as a student to me," Fenthick grumbled as he stretched out on the cot she'd had installed in her office, not even kicking his boots off first.

Aribeth watched all this and said not a word. _This_ was the Fenthick the public never got to see: the slothful, lazy, arrogant, hateful man that only showed himself to the woman who loved him most. Whenever they were in public, they were the public couple. The honorable, kind-hearted cleric destined to become High Priest of Tyr, and his beautiful wife to be, the most powerful Paladin of Tyr ever to grace his church and avatar of justice herself.

"Perhaps," Aribeth replied finally, seating herself at her desk once more. "but regardless, he would be an asset to the establishment.

Fenthick simply shrugged and got back to his feet. "Let's go to bed," he stated, holding out an arm for her to take. "you have the inauguration of the academy tomorrow, and I won't have you looking like a plague-ridden commoner out there."

Aribeth smiled weakly at the backwards compliment and grasped his arm, allowing him to lead her out of the study. Her gaze lingered on the pile of books concealing the finished letter and she sighed inside. She'd just have to send it when she finished her duties tomorrow.

Just as she was about to start down the stairs leading to the temple proper, a vision of such magnitude hit her and she staggered against Fenthick, holding her head as images pounded into her skull.

_"Neverwinter,"_ the words echoed in her head even as the images faded. _"take me to Neverwinter."_

"Aribeth? Aribeth!" it took her a moment to orient herself enough to realize Fenthick had been calling her name for the past couple minutes. "Aribeth, are you alright?"

"Yes," Aribeth replied slowly, eyes still unfocused as she stared at whatever it was she had seen. "Yes, I'm fine." Fenthick shrugged and continued on, careful to place a cheerful expression on his face as they entered the main temple.

Aribeth couldn't make the effort though, and remained lost in thought. _Something is coming,_ she could feel a presence moving through the dark countryside, coming ever closer to the city by the second. _Something that will either aid us, or be party to our destruction._ Shaking her head, she fixed a serene expression to her face and allowed her fiancé to lead her to their shared chambers. Now wasn't the time to muse on what will be. Now, it was time to sleep.

**Author's Note:** Remember not to go onwards unless I've stated in the story summary, or elsewhere, that the next chapter has been changed! I don't want anyone to get confused, or confused people emailing me about how things don't match up. Til later!


	13. Rewrite Chapter Two

**Author's Note: ** Winces…. Yeah, I know, it's been a long, long, long… LONG AS HELL time, and I'm sorry, but you know how it is. School, life, life, school…. School… anyways, here is the second re-written chapter, and the third should be up soon, followed by the fourth. To my reviewers, thanks so much! To new readers, well, hope you enjoy!

Kaia Moonchild

_**Road to Neverwinter…**_

Vanwa proved to be a stallion among stallions, Majandra discovered as she swung in and out of consciousness during the long, wet ride from the ruins of the Lion's Head to Neverwinter.

"Stay strong for me, Vanwa," She murmured as the black continued his steady pace towards the distant city lights, each jarring step sending bolts of pain through her body. "We're nearly there, my friend. Nearly there…" her words trailed off as she swayed forward in a swoon, head spinning from blood loss. In the hours since leaving the wreckage of the inn, the knife wound had sealed over, but threatened to reopen with every second, or so the trickle of warmth down her side told her. Any lesser creature would have perished under the strain of remaining on a horse during a hurricane, but not many beings had the strength or determination of the Fey'ri.

_Nine thousand ninety heads on dead corpses, Nine thousand ninety heads!_ Rekkei sang insanely in the back of her head, projecting images of the horrifying Blood Wars into Majandra's consciousness. The off tune, off color words caused bile to rise up in her throat. _I cut one off, play a round of golf, Nine thousand eighty-nine heads on dead corpses!_

"Shut up, Rekkei!" Majandra squeezed her head between her hands, trying desperately to shut out things she didn't want to remember. It had only been a few weeks since she'd escaped her cruel mistress in Sigil, but that wasn't even a hundredth of the time needed to comes to terms with the centuries of insanity spent serving in the Blood Wars. "Just, leave me alone!" Vanwa's ears pricked at the sound of her voice, and he whickered gently, almost as though he were trying to soothe his rider.

_Don't you like my song?_ Rekkei replied in a whiny voice that sent shards of pain into Majandra's brain. _I'm boooored! Why can't we kill something? Come on, Maggie, you know you want to!_

"I'm not like you!" Majandra snarled, baring her fangs and unsheathing the claws on her hands. "I don't need to kill to be complete! I don't have to do it anymore, never again, now that we've left Sigil, and you'll just have to get used to it!" Rekkei seethed in the back of her head, but at least she was relatively quiet. Majandra sighed and sat up. There, rising above the trees in the distance, lay the great city of Neverwinter.

"I'm coming," She whispered as her eyes drank in the grand buildings and towers she could make out from where she was. She estimated that it would be at least another two or three hours before she arrived at the city gates, if Vanwa stayed at his current pace, and then who knows how long until she found the thing that had been calling out to her even from the planes above. "Just wait for me," she could feel the connection getting stronger, the bond that whispered of a balm to her shattered mind and soul. "I'm coming."

Suddenly, Vanwa began snorting irritably, flinging his head from side to side and struggling against her loose grip on the reins. "Whoa, boy," Majandra struggled to get him under control, but it was as though he were being goaded by some unseen force, or maybe- Without warning, a broad headed hunting arrow thudded into her wounded side, eliciting a scream of agony at the pain of her insides being torn apart.

"There she is! That's the monster!" Majandra struggled to remain conscious as hunting horns began blaring from behind her and human voices called out her position. "Take her down! She's the one that destroyed the inn and stole Shadowmere!"

A hail of arrows began raining down upon Majandra and Vanwa, startling the horse out of his agitation and into a gallop towards the distant city. Behind them, the hunters booted their own mounts into a canter, and the chase was on.

Bent as low as possible over Vanwa's neck, Majandra hung on for her very life as the powerful horse leapt ditches and forded streams, each step making her head spin in anguish. Finally, to keep the shaft from moving and harming her any more, Majandra grasped the arrow in one hand and squeezed as hard as she could, weathering the bone shattering pain as only a veteran of war can. The bolt snapped, but the arrowhead inside twisted with the motion, throwing her once more into unconsciousness.

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWN**

_It's too quite…_ Rodger Caim, huntsmen, thought as he guided his mount through the tall grasses and trees with a sure hand, sharp eyes scanning the ground for signs of the monster's passage. He and the men of the nearby farm had been tracking the murderous demon ever since Yoren, one of his mates from the neighboring village, stumbled into town drenched in blood, most of it not his own. The call for arms had been raised, and he, along with a score of other able bodied men had ridden into the woods in search of what Yoren could only describe as a child of the Hells.

Moonlight drifted through the branches of the forest, giving the illusion of a leisurely night ride. Suddenly, the calm was broken as a hunting horn rang out from up ahead, startling Rodger's horse as the forest came alive with frightened animals.

"They've found her!" A fellow huntsmen rode by him, bow unlimbered as he spurred his horse to the chance of a kill ahead. "Come on, man!"

Rodger kicked his horse into a canter and followed, an eager grin stretched upon his own face at the thought of bagging the demon and returning home a hero. He quickly outstripped the other riders and their plains ponies, coming close enough to their quarry that he could see the dark liquid painting the coat of her mount the color of violent death as she passed through beams of moon and starlight.

He was nearly upon her, the group at his heels, when the earth seemingly erupted at their feet, throwing screaming horses and men into the air as monsters clambered from the depths of hell.

"For shame, human," Rodger felt his pants dampen as he was picked up by the leg and hung upside down in the air as though he weighed no more than a child, only to meet a pair of glowing, crimson eyes. "Didn't the bitch that whelped you ever teach you that stalking a woman is wrong?"

Rodger opened his mouth to reply, but his words became a garbled mess of blood and guts as he felt a hand tear through his insides. All around him, he could hear the remnants of the valorous hunting party dying at the hands of hell's hounds themselves, limbs hitting the loamy ground with muted thuds.

"D-demon…" the spark of life in Rodger's eyes faded, and his body was tossed unceremoniously aside.

"They're all dead, Chorwal." A huge, ugly slaad stomped up to the tiefling and dropped a score of heads at his hooved feat. "Any more orders?"

"No," the half-demon shook out his ivory white hair and wiped his hands on his crimson pants. "Our job here is complete. Majandra should arrive in Neverwinter as planned, and our employer should be able to take things from there."

Chorwal watched as his death squad of grey slaadi reentered the portal they had emerged from, and then moved to follow them. _You may have escaped me the first time, Majandra._ He thought as he felt the tendrils of magic propel him through the planes and towards his home and headquarters, Sigil. _But you should have known better. No one escapes Mistress Indara's wrath, and no one evades my grasp for long. Take what time you have and enjoy it, but know you will be mine once again!_

The portal shut with a crack of a filled vacuum, and the forest returned to its previous state. Blood dripped quietly in the moonlight, and animals returned to their business of feeding. The forest was a constant, and not even the presence of human corpses could disrupt that for long.

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWN**

"Do you see her?" Metal and leather creaked as the lookouts, twin brothers shifted on the high walls of Neverwinter, clutching their cloaks to their bodies as they were buffeted by the cutting winds.

"What do you expect? No." The first brother shrugged at the harsh tone and marched to the next torch over. He was used to being the "stupid one" of the two, but tonight all of that would change. Something moved at the edge of the woods, and he leaned closer to the edge, eyes squinting against the glare of the torchlight and moonlight shining on the snowy field that ended at the walls.

"You see that?" he called out to his brother. "Out there, heading towards the Dog Gate!"

"I see it, damn you. Move your ass. We have to get down there to meet her before anyone else sees her." The two had been given explicit orders to take the package inside as soon as it arrived, and to deliver her to their employer's manse in the Black Lake District.

The brothers hastened down the slippery stairs and to the mostly unused Dog Gate on the western wall of the city. Muscles straining, they pulled the rusty gate open just as a black stallion slid to a stop in front of it, withers covered in steaming sweat. Steam billowed from the magnificent horse's nose as he fought to breathe and cool himself down, dancing slightly to keep his unconscious passenger on his back.

It took a few minutes for the brothers to finally calm the stallion and bring him within the walls, and only once the door was closed could they see to the woman draped across the horse's back.

"Bane's blood, a demon!" the first brother cursed when they had her on the ground, horns gleaming in the torchlight.

"Indeed." The twins jumped as footsteps heralded the arrival of their employer. "I trust she's still alive?" the man spoke with the haughtiness of the aristocracy, voice matching his finely tailored clothing and warm fur cloak.

"She's wounded, sir," the "stupid one" replied, "Arrow wound to the side, and it's a heavy bleeder."

The employer snorted irritably, "Fine. Eddard, you know what to do. Wrap up here and deliver her to my mansion posthaste. The priest will be there shortly, and I don't want to keep him waiting."

"Aye, sir." Eddard drew his sword and whirled on his brother, sinking the steel deep into his gut.

"Wha-what the hell? E-Eddard!" His brother choked as blood rushed to his lungs, trickling down the sides of his mouth.

"How does it feel, Ned?" Eddard twisted the blade roughly and grinned with glee as the light in his brother's eyes faded. "Who's the stupid one now!" Silence was his only reply. Chuckling madly to himself, the former twin tied the stallion to a small cart lying nearby and then loaded the woman into it. He left the Dog Gate as he'd found it, but for the bloody ruin that was once his brother lying in the center of the courtyard. But honestly. What was one more body in a city where plague killed hundreds every day?

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWN**

"Duck!" Majandra ducked as ordered, eating dirt as the drill sergeant planted a boot in her back. "Faster! Do you want to get your fucking head taken off by a devil? Get up and do it again!"

Majandra scrambled to her feet as ordered, bruised and beaten body protesting the motion as she raised her sword back into guard position. _It's just a dream._ She told herself as the great sword wavered before her eyes. _Just a dream. I escaped from here, so it's just a dream._

"Duck!" she threw herself down, choking on a groan as she felt a whip lash her back. _Just a dream! Wake up, damn you!_ "Not good enough, my pretty little spawnling. What would Mistress Indara say if she were to see what a disappointment you are?" Tears of frustration trickled down her cheeks, but she forced herself back to her feet. This was the Abyss. Her home, if she really wanted to call the chaotic mess of blood and demons a home.

"She would beat me even worse than you, Chorwal." Majandra replied bitterly, eyes blazing as she lifted the heavy sword once again and settled in a guard position. "Now come. Enough of this farce!" Chorwal's eyes shone in reply, and the air was soon filled with the shriek of steel on steel.

Majandra gave it her all, but she knew where the reoccurring dream would end. It was the same one she'd had ever since Mistress Indara had kidnapped her from her home on the Prime Material Plane, stealing her from her father's dead arms as her hounds destroyed the tiny village that had been their home. She'd been given to Chorwal upon her arrival, for training at first, but that proved to be just another lie in the multitude her Mistress had told her.

A helpless cry escaped her lips as she was disarmed and thrown roughly to the ground, Chorwal's form casting a shadow as he loomed over her. _Wake up! Please, dear gods, wake up!_

"I'm going to make you mine…" he hissed as he slowly lowered himself on top of her, crimson meeting crimson in a hungry glare.

"No!" Majandra struggled, but it was to no avail. "NO!"

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWN**

"No!" Majandra woke with tears of frustration streaking her cheeks, eyes blazing in anger as Rekkei giggled in the back of her head. "Shut up, Rekkei." She muttered, calming herself down as she took stock of her surroundings. She was manacled to the wall of a bedchamber; arms stretched high to the sides of her head with a larger band of iron keeping her body pressed against the marble.

A fresh bandage was wrapped around her waist, calming her further in the knowledge that though she may be a prisoner, whoever had caught her was trying to make a good impression. They wanted something from her.

In the back of her head, she could feel the presence that had drawn her to Neverwinter was even closer than before. "Where am I?"

"The Black Lake District of Neverwinter," a smooth voice said from the doorway directly across from her, and she raised her head to see a man garbed in the robes of a cleric of Helm. "Welcome, Majandra Damar."

"So you know who I am," Majandra said casually, relaxing into the wall as though it were the most comfortable thing she'd ever touched. Quite frankly, compared to some of the real horrors she'd faced, this oh-so-terrifying cleric could have done better. "Who the hell are you?"

"No questions!" The man snapped, lightning lancing through her body at his words.

_Not too creative,_ Rekkei noted thoughtfully as Majandra forced a grin onto her face from the pitiful attempt at torture. _But I'll give him points for the attempt at intimidation. What's next, I wonder? A scary accomplice with a whip? Oh, my, this is simply too much!_

The "torture" ended as abruptly as it began, and Majandra let her smile widen, revealing sharp fangs. Two could play at this game. "Understood…sir." She resettled herself, wincing slightly at the tender wound on her side as it brushed the ring around her waist.

The cleric grunted and stared at her for a moment, empty eyes drinking in the fey'ri's exotic features. "Why have you come to Neverwinter?" he asked, forehead wrinkling all the way to his balding scalp. _I would love to take it, wouldn't you?_ Rekkei giggled, referencing the cleric's graying head. "Consider your words carefully, demon. The geas I have put on you is one of the most unpleasant, as I would love to show you. Tell me what I want, and you won't experience it."

_Geas?_ Majandra thought simultaneously with Rekkei, an uncommon occurrence. Her respect for the man increased slightly. _Damn, looks like the game is over._

"I'm looking for something," Majandra replied seriously, tail curling around her waist as she spoke. The way they'd tied her up left her nearly sitting on her tail, something that hurt far more than the lightning had. Her tail was ultra-sensitive, a fact she tried to keep as hidden as possible from everyone.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," she replied with a shrug. "I was hoping to find it on my own time, but it looks like that's not going to happen."

"Indeed it's not. Meldanen!" The door to the room opened, revealing a short man with curly black hair on his face and head. He was dressed richly and in dark robes, the mark of a successful sorcerer.

"Yes, Desther?" the sorcerer replied, bowing slightly. Majandra's eyes narrowed slightly at the two men. Since when did cleric's work with sorcerers, much less black robes?

"What is the status of our army?" Desther demanded. "They must be ready soon, now that we have our general."

_Bet you thought you'd never hear those words again, didn't you?_ Rekkei cackled as Majandra's entire body tensed at the word general. The only thing she wanted to avoid more than battle was leading others into it.

"They will be ready in two months." Meldanen replied assuredly, hands settling in his sleeves as he spoke. "The goblins have been…troublesome, to say the least, and many of the men have refused to work with them. There have been murders, but my sergeants have managed to tame them to a degree. Yes, two months should be enough time."

"Good." Desther grunted, turning back to Majandra. "Now, what am I going to do with you for the next two months, hmm?"

"Well," Majandra replied, "It's not like I can escape you, what with the geas you've placed on me. Let me get to know the city, especially if I'm going to be leading some kind of army against it."

"Not the city, fool," Meldanen glared at her, and she met his eyes neutrally. "The Academy of Heroes is our target."

"Why?" Majandra asked, forgetting the earlier command. The pain wasn't as bad this time, and she barely flinched.

"You will be briefed later." Desther replied, clapping his hands. The manacles fell off her instantly, and she rose to her feet with a full body stretch. "For now, the streets are yours. Be wary of what you say and do, for your actions will always come back to my ears."

"Of course," Majandra's tail lashed as she cracked her shoulders. "I know, the geas. Where are my weapons?"

Meldanen gestured and a chest appeared. "Your artifacts interest me, demon. Where are they from? I may demand to study them."

"They're from places you would seek death before seeing," Majandra replied as she buckled her wakizashi about her waist and clipped the collapsible pole arm to the sword belt. "Demand all you like, but the only way you're touching these will be taking them from my cold, dead hands." She raised her eyes to meet his, letting the crimson cat's eyes glow to show just how serious she was.

"Enough posturing." Desther interrupted the tense situation, to Meldanen's relief. "Do as you will, Demon, though be ready to come to my side when I give word."

"As you say, Master." Majandra bowed and invoked her power, disappearing from their sight with a crack of displaced air.

She reappeared on top of the house, leaning against the tiles as she looked out over the city. _Where are you? _She wondered, eyes drinking in the magnificent buildings. It would have been a very pretty night, but for the screams of the dying. _Are you waiting for me as well?_

She stood like that for a while, musing, and then leapt from the roof to the ground below, passage unnoticed but for the ravens roosting and rats scurrying.

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWN**

Aribeth awoke in bed with a start, chest heaving as she fought to calm herself. _It's arrived._ She thought to herself as she rolled out of bed and strolled to the window, opening it wide to let in the cool, predawn breeze. _May Tyr protect his children, it's arrived._ She lifted her face, letting the air cool the sweat from her skin.

"Ari?" Fenthick murmured sleepily as he rolled over in bed and found her missing, "What's wrong? The sun has barely reached the horizon."

"Nothing." Aribeth replied, climbing back into bed and her fiancé's arms. "Go back to sleep, my love." She settled herself, Fenthick's easy breathing calming her racing heart, but not her thoughts. _Will you be the one?_

**A/N:** (Stretches) Ah, now THAT felt good! Chapter two of the redo complete! Hah, if only I can find the motivation to do the next few… oh wait, I know! Reviews! Please do it.


	14. Rewrite Chapter Three

**A/N: **Alright, hooray for chapter three. Should I start replacing the chapters from chapter one? Would that be easier for people? Yeah? Okay, if you say so, I'll do it. Just PM me or whatever. Slightly shorter than the last, and somewhat filler-esque, but oh well... Let's go! Btw, this one is dedicated to Ray venn Hakubi for being one cool person.

Kaia Moonchild 

_**Neverwinter streets…**_

_I should've picked a different city to become obsessed with…_ Majandra thought to herself as she observed the lethargic people moving around below her seat on the dome of the Halls of Justice. _Probably be a lot more interesting without all the dead people._

In the month and a half since leaving Desther and Meldanen to do whatever it was they were doing, Majandra had learned more about Neverwinter than she imagined she needed to.

She knew the best whorehouses from her time spent in the Docks District cracking the wrists of petty thieves and avoiding roaming bands of land bound sailors. Their alcohol was the strongest available, she found, and it was easy for her to sit in the corner of a bar unmolested as she sought to forget the memories that plagued her sleep, then simply rent a room for the night. More often than not, the Docks were where she stayed when she didn't have anywhere else to go at night, or refused for another second to sleep in one of the dirty alleyways of the Core.

Not that the Core was a bad place to be, compared to the rest of the city. She knew the best place to get a drink and a bit of gossip, as well as who the best mercenaries were of the bunch that stayed at the Trade of Blades only a block away from where she sat. It was harder to navigate the inner city district, especially because of laws requiring that all patrons have bare heads while out and about. She found that a couple of well-placed hair ties hid her horns from sight. Her tail was never a problem, since the extra limb was easy to conceal amongst her belts and clothes.

She learned to avoid the Beggar's district like, well, the plague, after spending a worthless evening fending off rabid dogs as she scouted out the Academy of Heroes. The district was the home of the poorest of the poor, as well as the over flowing cemetery where the dead were placed. The air was constantly filled with the screams of those too ill or poor to leave, and certainly a hive for catching the disease. She thanked her demonic blood, for once, for rendering her immune to most mortal illnesses.

The Black Lake District would be the first she burned after fulfilling her duties, if only because of the way they lived their lives all but obliviously to the suffering of their fellow citizens beyond their pair of guarded gates. The headquarters of Desther and Meldanen's plan was almost as disgusting as the Beggar's District to Majandra's senses, and she avoided that place as well.

_Gonna keep day dreaming?_ Rekkei demanded acidly, voice grating on Majandra's mind. _I'm bored. Do something. Kill something._

Majandra picked up a piece of tile and chucked it at a pigeon sitting a little ways down from her, killing the bird instantly and knocking it to the ground far below. "Happy?" she replied curtly, lying back against the sun-warmed stones and closing her eyes. She had to admit, though, she was a little bored too.

_Do it again!_ Rekkei squealed like a gleeful, bloodthirsty child. _Do it again, Demon girl!_

"No, damn it." Majandra growled, running the claws in her knuckles across the tiles and making a song with the tinkle they created. "Can't you do something else?" Almost immediately, Rekkei began singing one of her off color ditties, filling Majandra's head with the singsong, childish voice.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" She rolled off the side of the building and free fell into the alley beside it, startling a toothless old man as he looked up from grubbing in the trash. "Sorry, grandfather." She muttered as she walked by him and into the shiny Core.

Besides scouting out her new home, Majandra had used her oh-so-free time to look for _it_. Unfortunately, it seemed the gods were playing with her, because the bond seemed to have gone haywire the moment she set foot in the city. First it would be in the Core, then the Beggar's District, then back in the Core, and so on and so forth. Some days, she despaired of finding the thing, and this was just another of those days.

Her stomach grumbling reminded Majandra that she had yet to eat that day, and so, with that in mind, she made her way to the Trade of Blades.

**NWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNWNW**

"Ari, are you listening to me? Aribeth!" Aribeth jerked herself away from her idle thoughts and refocused on Fenthick, who had long since grown bored of the silence at the table while he ate his food and she stared at hers. "What's going on with you, lately? You can't seem to pay attention to anything, and others have noticed. Think of our reputations!"

Aribeth nodded in understanding and placed her fork beside her plate. "My apologies, Fenthick," she replied, stifling a yawn. "I haven't been sleeping well, of late." Truthfully, she hadn't slept more than an hour or so since that night a month or so ago when she was awakened by _it_ coming into her city. Since then, she'd felt like she was going insane, feeling whatever was attached to the other end of the bond bouncing from district to district.

"Well, try to stay awake for the next couple of hours," Fenthick muttered, shoving his plate aside and stomping to the door of their private chambers. "Lord Nasher expects us to attend him within the hour when he formally invites Desther's church into Neverwinter." He swept out without waiting for her response, an act that was becoming more common every other day.

"As you say, my love," Aribeth spoke to the empty room, sighing as she rose to put the dishes aside for the maid. Once the table was straightened up, she quickly donned her court clothes -a crème colored tunic with green trim to bring out her eyes, pale green breeches, and doeskin ankle boots- and left the room, taking the spiraling stairs to the main entrance of the Halls of Justice. Both she and Fenthick were entitled to rooms in Castle Never, but chose to live in the Halls for various reasons, accessibility to their people being one of them.

Nodding to the cleric's going about their business, Aribeth exited the large chamber and stepped out into the brightness of the city Core. Had the screams of the dying not been ringing in her ears, the city would have looked as it would on any other sunny day.

Suddenly, the bond flared, and she whirled about in time to see something fall in her peripheral vision. _Could it be?_ She hastened across the square to the alleyway, only to be greeted by an old man staring at the brick wall that ended the passage.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, senses still straining to find what she was searching for. The bond had gone back to jumping around, and her shoulders sagged with the knowledge that she'd been so close. "If you have need for anything, the Halls are open to you."

"Need anything?" the man cackled with what he figured to be a toothy grin. "What need a man when women fall from the skies and land at his feet? Anything indeed!"

Aribeth bowed perfunctorily and left the man to his laughter, a perplexed expression on her face. _Women falling from the sky? Perhaps I should have Mikhail send some of his men to check on the food and water supply…_ The strange encounter followed her into the castle and through the throne room doors before she managed to bring her thoughts back to the task at hand.

"Milady Aribeth," the guardsmen bowed to her as she entered the grandiose chamber, silver armor clinking in her wake.

"Lady Aribeth," Lord Nasher sat his high seat like a man holding onto his last lifeline, rough features pale and sallow with illness. He'd been one of the first outside the Beggar's District to catch the Wailing Death after the quarantine, proof that the plague was spreading by more than human touch. "I'm glad you could join us." Fenthick shot her a quick glare for being late before schooling his features back into Boy Scout perfection.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Aribeth bowed before continuing up the dais to stand before her lover and her lord. "One of the citizens reported a strange occurrence, and I felt it fit to question him."

"Strange occurrence?" Fenthick echoed, a slight frown marring his perfect features. "What happened?"

"He said he saw a woman," she hesitated slightly at Nasher's slightly spaced expression. "He saw a woman fall from the sky." She finished.

"We've had a few such reports," Nasher stated, shocking the lady paladin. "Word has been reaching Aarin's ears about strange sightings of a shadow lurking about the city. Hallucinations from dying minds, I say."

"And I wasn't informed?" Aribeth asked calmly, though she felt a flash of anger. It was just another tiny omission in a string of omissions that made her feel as though she were slowly being pushed out of the boy's club of Neverwintian hierarchy.

"We didn't feel it was important enough to burden you with its knowledge, my dear." Fenthick replied sweetly, giving her the gentle smile she'd fallen for since the start. "You have enough on your plate as it is."

"Indeed she does!" The three turned to the entryway as a new presence entered the hall. "One of the reasons why I'm glad my brethren and I are being officially recognized. We can help ease your load, my Lady." Desther, High Watcher of Helm, strode into the room confidently, resplendent in his red and black vestments of faith.

"Welcome, Lord Watcher," Lord Nasher bowed his head weakly. It was surprising that the old man, made even older by the debilitating plague, had lasted as long as he had without an army of attendants surrounding him as they did in his bedchambers.

"Brother," Aribeth watched as Fenthick descended the dais to clasp arms with the other cleric. He personally greeted a member of a rival church and not his own fiancé? But again, she knew she would never bring up the slight. Maybe when times were better….

The investment ceremony was brief due to Nasher's fading stamina, and the cleric's quickly took their leave to oversee some of their people in other districts, leaving Aribeth to return to the Beggar's District and her academy alone. _Perhaps I'll stay there for a while,_ the lady paladin mused as she and her escort made their way through the disaster zone. _It seems I am not needed in the Core, and the other districts are fine on their own, as of now._

She nodded to the student-soldiers posted at the gates to her brainchild as they waved her into the compound, feeling the weight of responsibility lighten as she entered her comfort zone.

"My Lady! My Lady!" she straightened up as a human boy, surely no older than fifteen, came charging out of the main building with an overlarge sword strapped to his back. "Kaerion Galadorn has arrived!"

For the first time in weeks, an honest smile played across her lips. _Hope._ She thought. _Hope at last._

**A/N:** So I managed to do two in a single day. Hooray. Honestly people, what's wrong with a little review? Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Next one should be up soon as well.


	15. Heads Up

Hey guys, rules say I can't do this, but whatever. Thank you for reading the first edition of this story, and for all the great reviews you left. As you know, I'm rewriting the story, and, to avoid any more undue confusion, have decided to leave this alone and simply update to another story altogether. It's still entitled Never Again, same author etc etc. check out chapter four there!

Thanks again!

Kaia


End file.
